Fire Emblem Redemption Book III - Silent Requiem of the Vindicator
by Astral Miracle
Summary: Following Soren, the ancient branded tactician of Tellius lore, Morgan ventures east to a distant land, searching for her lost friend, unaware of her sister and Lucina's desperate pursuit. But when Morgan and her companions find Tellius veiled by the shadow of war, the young tactician, unwilling to leave Tellius to its fate, dives willingly into the darkness.
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer**

* * *

I do not own Fire Emblem, I do not own Intelligent Systems, and I do not own any of the characters / settings from Fire Emblem. I've rated this story T for themes of war, including both violence and murder, alcohol use, potentially minor sexual references (nothing exceeding what already exists in Fire Emblem: Awakening), and potentially themes of character death.

There will be spoilers for Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn.


	2. Prologue: Departure

**~ Prologue ~**

**Departure**

It was a beautiful summer morning. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon, illuminating the clear skies. Not a single cloud drifted overhead, assuring the passengers of the _Rainfell_ that their path would likely remain clear, at least for the better part of the day.

But truthfully, it didn't matter too much. While conventional ships were often at the mercy of foul weather, even the devastating summer tempests could do little to hinder the _Rainfell_. And while most sailors would surmise from the pleasant weather that they were safe for at least a few days, the _Rainfell_ was far faster, and her passengers had grown accustomed to cutting in and out of storms.

Even so, they weren't ready to let the fine morning go to waste, especially when the sun hadn't quite risen high enough to beam down uncomfortably upon them. Two of the ship's passengers stood upon the ship's stern deck, each brandishing a simple wooden training sword at the other. One was a young woman with dark eyes and long, vibrant red hair, only accessorized with a pair of pearl wing-shaped clips. She wore a long black robe, decorated with purple accents and golden tassels, with its hem trimmed in small gold triangles. The other was a tall young man with dark blue hair, perhaps a few years older than his smaller opponent, who insisted upon wearing his light plate armor even during casual training sessions. "A warrior must always be comfortable in his armor," he often insisted.

Morgan waited patiently, though she carefully turned to continue facing her opponent as Priam circled her steadily. Despite her outwardly calm demeanor, Morgan was rather frustrated. Priam was a skilled opponent, and only one in every five bouts ended with Morgan holding out long enough to land a blow against the faster and stronger warrior. Priam's swordplay wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. Even when he did slip up, most of the time Morgan found herself too slow to punish Priam's mistakes.

This would be their seventh round this morning, and only one had ended in Morgan's favor. Morgan smiled, determined to land at least one more blow on Priam. More often than not, their duel began the same way. As usual, Priam remained still, allowing Morgan to strike first. But after many bouts, Morgan sidestepped the obvious trap by simply ignoring the apparent opening. By now, she knew better than to try to slip past Priam's defenses while leaving herself open. Instead, she waited calmly to see what attack routines her opponent was in the mood for this time. Oddly enough, despite his frequent meditative rituals and philosophical manner of speech, Priam was _not_ a patient man.

Just as she had predicted, Priam soon grew tired of waiting. As he finished circling Morgan again, he stepped forward suddenly, thrusting his weapon straight ahead. Morgan recognized the move at once, and knew Priam would inevitably follow with a quick sequence of forward thrusts. She stepped away, willingly giving ground and remaining out of Priam's reach.

Likely afraid that his opponent had read his movements too quickly, after the second thrust fell short, Priam swung his sword back and shifted his balance. This tell was as obvious as the first, but Morgan grimaced, recognizing the stance, and knowing that Priam would follow with a serious of relentless, powerful chops and slashes, with an emphasis on mobility.

Morgan knew she wouldn't be able to simply retreat this time, for Priam clearly intended to pace her steadily. Coming from any normal fighter, it wouldn't have been too much of a concern, for without momentum, her opponent would normally wear himself out quickly. But Priam wouldn't tire so easily, and often overwhelmed Morgan with this very tactic. Morgan usually ended up missing a parry, or simply falling behind long before Priam was forced to pause and catch his breath.

It was time for a change in tactics, Morgan knew. Out of the many times her opponent had attempted this gambit, Priam had only slipped up once. The odds were certainly not in her favor if she followed his lead, but Morgan wasn't overly concerned about playing fair. After all, Priam was taller, heavier, and stronger than she was, and faster with longer reach, to boot.

It was time to even the odds.

As Priam stepped forward, beginning his brutal forward assault, Morgan carefully measured and parried his first few attacks, while trying to draw nearer. Maintaining their distance would only work in Priam's favor, who would certainly love to remain out of her reach, while keeping her within striking distance.

Priam was unconcerned, for he had seen this counter before. And while it was true that one of his advantages was lost, he knew it would still be difficult for Morgan to strike at him while keeping up with his attack routine. He fully expected the move to bring a quicker end to their bout.

It certainly did, but not in the way the blue haired warrior expected. Morgan was tiring quickly, and as she blocked each blow in succession, it felt as if there was less and less weight behind her parries. Confidently, Priam forced Morgan's blade aside, then drew his weapon back to gain momentum for a single finishing blow.

A tome flew through the air, blocking his vision and striking him in the forehead. Startled, Priam nearly dropped his weapon, and stumbled back. But Morgan paced him, her sword cleanly poking at his belly. "Morgan wins!" the red haired girl shouted gleefully.

Priam groaned, exasperated. "A tome, Morgan? Really?" he protested, though it was hard to argue with the girl's exuberance. Though she was technically an adult, her small build and youthful face, not to mention her childish behavior, often made her seem much younger.

"Sorry, Priam. I wasn't sure how else to keep up with you so I kind of had to improvise," Morgan said, laughing sheepishly.

"Good improvisation," Priam conceded with another groan. He was more annoyed with himself than Morgan, though, for being taken by surprise so easily. Besides, he knew that if he was to complain, he would only be rewarded with another rightfully earned lecture.

"Hardly," Soren remarked snidely, where he was sitting in the shade of a canopy near the mast. Priam flinched, realizing he hadn't escaped the lecture after all with his apparent acceptance of defeat.

"I know, I wasn't paying attention," Priam admitted quickly.

Soren shook his head, disappointed. "You were paying attention. Just not to every relevant aspect. You were watching your opponent's blade, but again, you overlooked that the sword was not her only available weapon."

"It's only a training session, Uncle," Priam protested.

"A training session is meant to help you learn and grow. Rehearsing the same motions to improve your reflexes is certainly valuable, but it is hardly the only relevant aspect of battle," Soren said dismissively. "You are no warrior, Priam. You are a performer. And if you refuse to think like a warrior, you will never make proper progress."

Morgan winced uncomfortably, and shot her friend an apologetic, sympathetic look. Soren was always surprisingly harsh in his criticism, especially when it came to Priam. And while a steady string of losses often annoyed Morgan, and served to renew her determination and efforts, even a single defeat was crushing to Priam, made all the more insufferable by Soren's stinging commentary. "I don't know," she interrupted. "Priam's one of the strongest warriors I've ever met."

Soren didn't seem impressed, and her remark didn't seem to brighten Priam's dour mood at all. "Priam has every physical advantage when sparring with you," Soren reminded. "Given his frequent and extensive training, he should never be dropping a bout to you."

"Morgan's pretty skilled with the sword herself," Priam argued. "And she's clever. You said it yourself, Uncle, a true warrior fights with his mind!"

"Precisely. Why, then, do you refuse to use yours?" Soren challenged.

Priam straightened as if he had been slapped, and seemed to have a hard time formulating a response. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly, finding his voice at last. He turned to Morgan and extended his hand. Morgan smiled and gladly shook hands with Priam, for she knew how important such a simple formality was to Priam.

Soren only rolled his eyes and returned to gazing out to sea, vacantly, as Priam went below deck to stow the two training swords.

"You really shouldn't be so harsh on him," Morgan said, turning to Soren as soon as Priam was out of earshot.

"The truth is harsh," Soren said dispassionately. "I observe, and I share my observations. What good does idle flattery do for anyone?"

"A kind word or two would make him feel better," Morgan pointed out.

"Would it?" Soren asked dourly, as he set his book down. He stared at Morgan, and his penetrating ruby eyes seemed to bore right into her mind. "Tell me, Morgan, if I were to offer hollow, insincere compliments, do you truly think my words would hold any weight in Priam's mind?"

"Yes," Morgan replied defiantly. "Confidence is important to a warrior, too, you know."

"Rightful confidence is an asset. Overconfidence is a fatal flaw," Soren replied in his infuriatingly calm manner.

"That's not the point," Morgan retorted angrily, although she hesitated a moment later. _Wasn't_ that the point, after all? Soren's criticisms of Priam, while harsh, were always technically true. Why, then, did his words seem so crushing to Morgan?

"Isn't it?" Soren asked, clearly seeing the doubt in her expression.

"It isn't," Morgan said stubbornly. "The point is, he acts as if you're the closest thing he has to a father, but you don't even seem to care how he feels. Sometimes, you act as if you don't even know him! Not everything has to be about achieving your goals. Sometimes you just want someone you care about to care about you, too."

Soren shrugged. "I am not his father, nor am I his uncle, for that matter," was his only reply to that.

With a disgruntled sigh, Morgan retreated below deck, knowing that their conversation was going nowhere.

Ever since the first day of the voyage, Morgan had found the relationship between Priam and Soren to be quite unusual. In some ways, Priam reminded her of herself. The reverence Priam showed Soren, bordering on zealotry, was not unlike the love Morgan showed her own father. Unfortunately, sometimes it seemed as if Priam was doomed to never quite find Soren's approval. If it wasn't for the fact that Soren was more critical of Priam than anyone else, Morgan would never have guessed that the two men knew each other.

* * *

"Are you alright, Priam?" Morgan called, when she spotted Priam sitting on his cot, meditating quietly. Surprisingly enough, Priam had made it abundantly clear that he did not mind her interruptions.

"An indomitable spirit fosters an indomitable force. He who seeks to become such a force must never allow mere words to bruise his spirit," Priam said serenely, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Does that really work for you?" Morgan asked curiously, sitting down on her own cot across from Priam. "Words can stir emotions, can't they? Emotional wounds often sting more painfully than any physical wounds might."

"A true warrior must master his emotions," Priam replied.

"During a fight, sure," Morgan agreed. "But then, that's true of physical pain, too. In a fight, we have to do our best to push past any pain we feel. But that doesn't mean you can stop feeling it entirely… does it?" She hesitated slightly as she completed her thoughts. Seeing how abnormally strong her new companion was, if he claimed not to feel physical pain at all, she would've believed him wholeheartedly.

But perhaps she was overestimating his abilities just a little bit. "I guess that's true," Priam conceded. "Words, like physical injuries, may sting. But Soren was right. I still have much to learn, and pain, temporary as it is, will not outweigh my potential."

"Maybe, but you have to give yourself credit for your strengths, too," Morgan said consolingly.

Priam smiled faintly. "Thank you, Morgan."

"Any time," Morgan replied cheerily. The two sat in contented silence for some time, with Priam seemingly returning to his meditation.

"Tell me about it," Priam said, speaking up abruptly.

"About what?" Morgan asked, startled.

"When you spoke of emotional wounds, it sounded as if you were speaking from experience. I would understand if it's a story if you would rather not share, but if it's not a terrible imposition, I must admit, I am curious," Priam said. "I was still quite young when my parents passed away, so for quite a long period of my life, Uncle Soren was all I had. There is much to life that I have yet to experience for myself."

"I'm not sure it's something you _want_ to experience," Morgan said. "I told you before about how I once lost my memories, right?"

"You did," Priam confirmed.

"Well… because of that, I didn't have much time to get to know Dad before he died. I remembered quite a bit about him, but most of it didn't make sense. We're not even sure they were real memories," Morgan admitted.

"Wait a moment. What do you mean before he died?" Priam asked, confused. "He seemed alive and well the last time we met."

"Oh, right. I skipped over that part, didn't I?" Morgan realized uncomfortably. Priam only stared at her as if she had sprouted another head all of a sudden. "I did mention how the Grimleal could control my father, right?"

"Yeah. You said that's how they took control of him and made him fight for the fell dragon," Priam recalled.

Morgan frowned. "That's only half the story," she admitted. "When Dad realized they could control him, he was scared the Grimleal would turn him against us. To ensure that could never happen, he took his own life, only a few days after the Shepherds found me."

"Life is to be treasured. To take one's own life is… unthinkable," Priam remarked, shaking his head. "But if he killed himself, then how is he still alive?"

"To be honest, no one's really sure," Morgan admitted. "The Grimleal were able to resurrect him, and when they did, he became part of the fell dragon. He managed to break free for a short while, just long enough to destroy Grima. He disappeared along with Grima, and Naga told us that he was gone for good. But later, he just… reappeared."

"How odd," Priam wondered. "Are you sure it's really him?"

"Absolutely," Morgan said, without even a trace of doubt. She couldn't help but smile upon thinking of her loving father. "I know him quite well now, and he can't be anyone _but_ my father. And he and Mom are closer than ever, too."

"Interesting. I would have imagined that such a difficult decision would've had the opposite effect, distancing him from those that he was close to," Priam said.

Morgan shook her head. "When I first met my father, he was the most important person in the world to me. Then, when I lost him, I realized he was even more important to me than I could have imagined. That's the way it is sometimes. Just when you think you understand the bonds you share with the people you care about, you realize you've barely scratched the surface," Morgan said sagely.

Priam nodded wistfully. "I wonder if Soren and I are the same way," he said softly.

Soren again. Morgan tried to tell herself that Priam knew and understood the reserved, ancient tactician much better than she did, but it was hard to ignore the persistent longing she saw in Priam's eyes whenever he spoke of Soren.

"Maybe," Morgan finally said. "But it doesn't have to be just a single person, either. I have my mother and sister, too. Well, sisters, now."

"And your friends," Priam reminded. "Such as the one we're searching for now."

"Yep," Morgan agreed. "I'm sure you have other friends, too, right?"

Priam nodded solemnly. "I suppose I do. I have met many kindred spirits in my few years. And, of course, you are my friend too, are you not?"

Morgan blinked, surprised by how Priam had so quickly set her apart from the other "kindred spirits" he had mentioned. "Of course. But we've only known each other for a couple weeks, haven't we? I'm sure you've had friends you've known longer than that."

"There is time spent together, and there is the depth of the bonds shared," Priam replied philosophically. "I have spent years alongside some of the people of Azure Pyre without ever truly understanding who they are or how they live their lives. Besides, we are partners in this quest, are we not? Nothing fosters a stronger connection than a common cause."

"I suppose," Morgan said noncommittally. That sentiment certainly held a grain of truth, for Morgan had seen firsthand the strength of the relationships that the Shepherds had forged over the years. But though the former Shepherds would all likely remain friends and remember each other fondly for the rest of their days, they had still each returned to their own lives.

* * *

_~ A week later ~_

Since the lectern had to be attended to at all hours of the day, and Priam had little to no affinity with magic, Morgan had initially asked that Soren watch over it for a few hours every day. To her surprise, Soren immediately offered to break each day into two twelve hour shifts. Thinking to at least give Soren the easier shift, Morgan claimed the nightshift for herself.

Upon further reflection, she wondered if Soren even cared which shift was his. Soren was astonishingly stoic, and seemed to care little about anything at all. On the other hand, Morgan didn't really mind the nightshift either, even when the weather was poor, as it was this night.

The canopy stretched over the lectern kept Morgan reasonably dry as the rain pattered down on the deck all around her. A small conventional lantern hung just below the canopy, illuminating the lectern and the small nightstand she had moved to the deck. As her two companions were supposed to be sleeping, the red haired tactician amused herself by studying a small wooden playing board and the formations of the playing pieces she had placed upon it.

"It has been many years since I've seen someone playing that game, and I don't believe I've ever seen it played alone," Soren remarked quietly, alerting Morgan to his presence.

Morgan looked up, startled. "Oh, hello," she greeted. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I will sleep when I find it necessary," Soren replied calmly, as he took a closer look at the board. "I do not believe such positions are truly possible in a normal game of Conquest," he observed.

"Conquest?" Morgan asked curiously. "I didn't know this game had a name."

"Really? How do you refer to it, then?" Soren asked, showing the slightest hint of curiosity.

"Depends on who you ask," Morgan admitted. "If you ask Dad, it's just 'The Strategy Game', or 'The War Game'. But if you ask our friend, Anna, it's 'Lords and Tacticians'. She says it's more marketable that way. Then again, if you ask Uncle Chrom, it's 'That Game No One Understands'."

"He doesn't seem fond of strategy games," Soren said.

"He isn't, but sometimes he gets bored enough to play it anyways," Morgan said. "But Dad and I made a few changes to the game to simulate battlefield situations. They're not always necessarily _fair_, but…"

"But that's the way it is in war. The battlefield is rarely perfectly even," Soren said, completing her thought perfectly.

"Exactly," Morgan agreed.

"Do keep in mind that our resources in this little quest of yours include neither wyverns nor Pegasi," Soren noted dryly, pointing at the pieces on the board simulating aerial combatants positioned on both sides of the field.

"Oh, this isn't for our mission," Morgan said. "Sometimes I just run through these situations to practice."

"I see. Good luck, then," Soren said, sounding rather insincere, as he started for the cabin.

"Wait, Soren!" Morgan called, an idea striking her. Soren obediently paused and turned back. "Do you know how to play?"

"Of course," Soren replied, seeming a bit irritated.

"Let's play, then," Morgan offered, with an inviting smile.

"No thank you," Soren said, as he began to turn away again.

"Come on, Soren. Just one game," Morgan pleaded. "You were a great tactician once, too, weren't you?"

"There were some who believed me to be, yes," Soren said dismissively. "But the difference between an average tactician and a great tactician isn't always immediately obvious. In battle, too much depends on factors beyond a tactician's control."

"But flexibility is also a great asset for tacticians," Morgan argued. "Being able to overcome unfavorable situations is part of being a good tactician."

"Being able to overcome unfavorable situations usually requires the situation to be not quite as unfavorable as it appears," Soren retorted. "Which usually means either a poor understanding of the scenario, or a fortunate and unpredicted turn of events."

"So you're saying that during the War of the Goddess, you and Ike were lucky, and that you _weren't_ a very good tactician after all," Morgan accused, being deliberately obtuse.

"That's not what I said," Soren corrected immediately.

"Show me then," Morgan said with an eager smile.

Soren sighed. He could see through the girl's attempted manipulation easily enough, and was tempted to turn away anyways simply out of spite. But in truth, Soren didn't really care either way. "Fine. One game," Soren agreed, and he collected a small wooden chair and seated himself across from Morgan, as Morgan began arranging the pieces into their standard starting positions.

"This is our normal starting formation," Morgan explained, as she finished placing the last few pieces. "Is it the same one that you normally play with?"

"It doesn't matter," Soren replied brusquely, quickly memorizing the formations. "You may have the first move, Morgan."

Morgan nodded and went with her favorite opening gambit, moving her common soldiers in the center of her line to open up her tactician, mages, and cavaliers as quickly as possible. Soren mirrored her first few moves, which left Morgan wondering if he was playing a similar style to take her measure, or simply because it was his own preference, too.

But she soon realized that Soren's play style was quite different after all. Soren's play seemed recklessly aggressive, and he made his moves quickly, unlike Morgan who took her time calculating each move carefully. Despite that, it seemed as if Soren's moves were just as carefully measured, and Soren soon took control of the game, forcing Morgan to trade pieces with him or give up favorable positions.

By the time Morgan realized she was playing too defensively, it was too late. Soren had manipulated her into a corner, with her own pieces getting in her way, while his pieces were cleverly dispersed across the field. "Mate in four," Morgan said, realizing the game would soon be over as Soren advanced his marshal forward.

"Indeed," Soren confirmed, seemingly taking no joy or pride in his victory. His eyebrow did quirk upward slightly. "You played well," he congratulated.

"Not well enough, obviously," Morgan said, trying to hide her disappointment. "I don't understand, though. It felt like you weren't taking any time to think your moves over at all."

"After you've seen this game played so many times, over the course of centuries, reading your opponent tells you all that you need to know," Soren explained. "Your opening gambit was aggressive, but you followed it with extremely conservative positioning. You value your more potent units, and while you wanted to put them to use, you were hesitant to put them in danger. That made your moves easy to anticipate. By forcing you to trade pieces with me, I was limiting your options."

"But I did accept some of those trades," Morgan argued.

"The ones I knew you would accept," Soren stated coolly. "They were the ones that were seemingly favorable to you, since you were too focused on the pieces. You sacrificed your favorable positions for the pieces you thought were most important. It's a common error, particularly among those who have been in a real battle and often follow the same reflexes in a game."

"So you're saying that I shouldn't have been so reluctant to sacrifice my more important pieces?" Morgan asked.

"Not at all. You can formulate effective strategies around protecting multiple pieces, if you prefer to play that way. But you can't simply hide your valuable pieces because you're afraid to lose them, especially after spending valuable time advancing them. Sometimes, an aggressive position can be as safe, or safer, than a defensive position," Soren explained. Without further prompting, he began resetting the board, despite his earlier reluctance to play. "Allow me to demonstrate. The first move is yours," he invited.

Morgan was surprised to see Soren volunteering to play another round with her, but naturally, she didn't argue. Back in Ylisse, Morgan often played with her father, and her father almost always seemed to hold the upper hand. Maybe a new instructor was the breakthrough she needed.

* * *

_~ Two weeks later ~_

Morgan awoke late in the evening with a loud yawn. After stretching her arms briefly, she reached for the comb lying beneath her pillow. Though growing out her hair had seemed an amusing novelty at first, it was so incredibly frustrating to care for sometimes, and Morgan was seriously considering trimming her hair short once more.

"Good morning," Priam greeted, when he noticed she was awake.

"Morning?" Morgan echoed, confused.

"Or evening, I suppose," Priam corrected absentmindedly. He seemed entirely focused on the book he was reading.

"Which book is that?" Morgan asked curiously, tilting her head and peering at the cover. It was probably one of the many books she had brought along, which she had been more than willing to share with her two companions.

"It's one of yours," Priam answered. "Treatise of Naval Warfare."

Morgan glanced at him quizzically. "Did you want to become a fleet admiral or something? That book was pretty boring."

"That it is," Priam said with a laugh. "And no, I don't think I'll ever find myself leading an army at sea, or any army at all for that matter. Still, I find that principles may be applied in ways outside of what the author suggests."

"Really? How?" Morgan asked.

"For instance," Priam began, flipping back several pages. "This chapter speaks of the proper use of ballistae and catapults, and the varying purposes of different projectiles. The author explicitly notes the value of flaming pitch, which is used only to gauge distance and battlefield conditions."

"But siege weapons used at sea are different from similar weapons used on land," Morgan pointed out. "The weapons are designed differently, since they're not necessarily always used from level ground, and when your weapons are stationary, it is generally easier to prepare for battle."

"Right," Priam agreed. "The chapter very specifically relates to the use of naval siege weaponry, and on the surface, relates to little else. But it emphasizes the importance of awareness of one's arsenal and accurate information. The real lesson within is to know the advantages and drawbacks of your weaponry and be constantly aware of the changing conditions in a fight."

"But that's just one of the basic tenets of strategy," Morgan said, not quite understanding Priam's point.

"Yes, of course. Know your weaknesses to adequately protect yourself from defeat. Be aware of your surroundings and use them to your advantage. Basic principles, perhaps. But the author emphasizes _how_ these principles are perceived in this particular situation. In other words, you need to assess these same principles as they relate to each challenge that you face, and interpret them accordingly," Priam said.

Morgan just shrugged. Despite Priam's lengthy explanation, it didn't sound like the text had truly inspired any new concepts. But then again, that was Priam's nature; the simplest thing could be the first stepping stone to a wide arc of reflection. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ likes that book," Morgan said with a grin. "Now if we finally find ourselves with a fleet short of a commander, we know where to find one."

"I hope not," Priam said, laughing. "I suspect that would end quite badly."

Morgan laughed, too, as she finally gave up trying to entangle her messy hair, reasoning that neither Priam nor Soren were likely to care. If Severa were anywhere nearby, it would be a different story, but by now they were hundreds of miles away from Ylisse. As she thought of Severa, though, Morgan's laughter died away, and again she wondered if it had been a mistake to set off without at least telling her protective older sister.

When Owain had left Ylisse in search of the mysterious sea monster, his departure had left a strange void in all of their lives. Morgan had initially thought it to be out of fear for her friend. But though she held no doubts in her own course, and knew that she would see her friends and family again soon enough, leaving her parents and sisters behind only redoubled the strange, hollow sensation.

A feeling of guilt also plagued Morgan, for she knew that her family would likely be feeling the same way. In Severa's case, it was probably even worse. Though Morgan's older sister had grown quite adept at concealing her feelings from others, Morgan saw through the snarky, carefree façade easily enough. Sometimes, Morgan wondered if she had been lucky in losing her memories. Severa had been plagued by memories of the loss of her entire family even as she entered this timeline, only to lose her father yet again.

Morgan knew that Severa was sensitive to the thought of losing someone she cared dearly for. Severa had taken Owain's departure harder than anyone else, it seemed, though she tried so desperately to hide it. And now Morgan had taken herself out of reach, too. "Sorry, Sis," Morgan whispered quietly.

"What was that?" Priam asked, startling Morgan from her thoughts.

"Oh! It's nothing, I was just talking to myself," Morgan said quickly, feeling a little bit embarrassed.

* * *

_~ Two weeks later ~_

"Soren, you said you have the blood of a Laguz, right?" Morgan asked, as she casually slid her soldier forward. Despite his initial reluctance, Soren turned out to be quite willing to continue playing Conquest with Morgan after the first night. Morgan's theory was that he, too, was bored. Then again, the game didn't seem to captivate his attention, either, and Soren looked just as bored sitting across from her, barely paying attention to the game.

"Yes," Soren said simply, as he retaliated by moving his wyvern knight closer. Morgan saw his plan immediately, for the flying wyvern knight was only a move away from threatening her lord, and from a safe position where it could also strike at her mage.

"What kind of Laguz?" Morgan asked, as she preemptively repositioned her mage. She wasn't sure if Soren would answer, but she figured she'd try anyways. Hopefully it would distract Soren a little bit. And besides, she really _was_ curious.

"I never found out," Soren admitted, as he reached instead for a piece on the other side of the board. Morgan fidgeted uncomfortably as she realized Soren never expected her to actually fall for the obvious maneuver, and must have been hoping for her to move her mage out of the way as she had just done. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was thinking, it would be pretty awesome if you could transform into an animal," Morgan mused, as she reviewed her options. "But that could depend on what kind of animal, right?"

"I told you, the branded cannot transform," Soren replied. "A branded child is no different from a Beorc aside from his lifespan and the brand itself. The Laguz parent even permanently loses his or her ability to transform."

"Yeah, but the heritage is still there, right? What if it's just, I don't know, waiting to be unlocked?" Morgan invented wildly as she finally decided to advance her marshal.

"Unlikely," Soren replied, as he quickly repositioned his own mage. "Heron."

"Heron?" Morgan echoed hollowly.

"The beast Laguz rarely live more than three or four centuries. The bird Laguz, outside of the herons, can live nearly twice as long, between six and seven centuries. Branded typically have about half the lifespan of their Laguz parentage," Soren explained. "Given that I have seen five centuries myself, and outwardly still appear young, I am likely descended from the herons."

"How long do heron Laguz live?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know," Soren replied with a shrug. "I've never heard of a heron growing old. In fact, I once met a heron who was over a millennium old, and still looked like a young man."

"A thousand years," Morgan whispered wonderingly. Then her expression grew sour.

"You seem disappointed," Soren noted.

"Herons are okay, I guess," Morgan said. "But I was hoping for something, I don't know, a little more interesting?"

Soren rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, yeah, sort of," Morgan said. "Imagine if you were a bunny Laguz. Then you could have awesome fluffy ears when you transform."

It seemed Morgan had found the distraction she been searching for, as Soren's face slipped into his palms. "Branded don't transform, and there aren't any rabbit Laguz either," he said, sounding exasperated.

"Really? That's no fun," Morgan said, trying to hide her glee when she realized that Soren wasn't even looking at the board anymore. She quickly advanced her Pegasus knight, wondering if this could, perhaps, be her first victory over the clever tactician. "Your move."

"When did the subject of my heritage turn into a discussion of what would be 'fun'?" Soren asked dryly, as he reached for his archer. "If it makes you feel better, I suppose I could be descended from the dragon Laguz, too. Dragon Laguz lifespans are also known to surpass a thousand years."

"Now that's more like it," Morgan agreed cheerily as she retreated her Pegasus knight. "Why didn't you guess dragon to begin with?"

"Because the Goldoans keep to themselves, and few Beorc are foolish enough to intrude upon their self-imposed isolation. On the other hand, the herons were prized as slaves for their beauty. There are probably many branded children of the heron Laguz that were abandoned, as I was," Soren said matter-of-factly.

Morgan looked stunned. "Are you serious?" she demanded uncomfortably. "Laguz were kept as _slaves_?"

Soren laughed harshly, a rare bit of humor, though dark, from the normally reserved man. "When I drafted our adventures into a story, I deliberately withheld a few details. There was no need to get bogged down in every cruel subtlety of Tellius."

"That's horrible," Morgan muttered, as she watched Soren's tactician advance toward hers.

"That's reality," Soren countered coldly. "People have expectations of others, rooted in their own identities. When others fail to meet those expectations, or perhaps surpass them, such differences breed fear, which, in turn, begets discrimination. To be blunt, the prejudice and cruelty between Beorc and Laguz was quite mutual," he assured.

Somehow, that thought didn't make Morgan feel any better. "Is Tellius still that way?" Morgan asked hesitantly, as she moved one of her soldiers idly, her mind no longer really on the game.

"How should I know?" Soren asked. "Checkmate."

Morgan looked down, startled, and only then realized the error of her previous move. "Crud."

"Nice try, by the way," Soren said, a hint of a smirk crossing his expression. "It seems your attempts to distract me only distracted yourself. You positioned that soldier earlier to protect your lord, and there was no good reason to move it."

Embarrassed, Morgan cast her mind about for a change in subject. "Hey, Soren. If you find out you're really a dragon and not a heron…"

"Then it will change absolutely nothing," Soren said.

"But if you figure out how to transform," Morgan began again.

"Then I will have made a discovery that no one in Tellius believed possible," Soren interrupted impatiently.

"Right, but _if_ you do," Morgan emphasized hastily. "Do you think you could give me a ride?"

The conversation had reached new heights of absurdity. "No," Soren said flatly. "Good night, Morgan," he added, as he stalked away, seeming more annoyed than Morgan had ever seen him before.

Morgan couldn't help but smile as she watched the tactician go. In some ways, teasing Soren was even more entertaining than playing pranks on her friends or her father back at home. And maybe Soren would be annoyed with her for a while, but knowing how imperturbable he was, she was fairly certain the dour mood wouldn't last _too_ long.

What she couldn't see was Soren hiding a slight smile of his own, born of mixed amusement and exasperation.


	3. Part One: Eternal Bond

**~ Part One ~**

**Eternal Bond**

_I should be lost in doubt._

_When I left Ylisse, all I had was a glimpse of this foreign land. And even though the details were convincing, they were hardly definitive. There's so much more to this world than we know. To be completely honest, there was no way I could have been absolutely certain that what I saw was really Tellius. To make matters even more confusing, given the way the Oculus works, even if I could have been sure that it was Tellius I was seeing, I had no way of knowing whether Owain is truly anywhere near the vision that the Oculus conjured._

_I didn't let that stop me, though. Even when Soren bluntly reminded me of the truth that I should have recognized for myself, I refused to allow rational thinking to sway me from my course._

_Early in the voyage, I spoke to Soren of the vision in great detail. He claims no knowledge of the mysterious foes the Laguz were battling, and now, I can't even be certain that the transforming humans I saw were really Laguz. __I should be lost in doubt._

_But I'm not._

_Somehow, my heart assures me that I've chosen the right course. Even though I long to see my family again, even though I dearly miss my friends, any uncertainty in me quickly fades away when I afford it even the slightest thought. I can't explain it. I just know, somehow, my course will make things right again._

_It has to be the invisible ties Dad believes so strongly in. The same ties that give us strength and keep us from breaking beneath the weight of our trials. The same ties that mysteriously brought Dad back to our side. But am I putting too much faith in the unexplainable?_

_As far as I can remember, I've always aspired to be a great tactician like Dad. When I asked Severa, she said I've been that way ever since I was little. A tactician's role is to observe, to understand, to reason, and to predict. That's the way of life I've chosen for myself. But when it comes to those I care about, somehow, I leave all of that behind._

_Maybe it's because of the way our war against the fell dragon ended. I was the Shepherds' tactician, but it wasn't my tactics than won us the war. All the tactics in the world couldn't have saved us, as we laid there on Grima's back, crippled by his seemingly insurmountable magic. No sword or magic alone could have broken the fell dragon's crushing grasp._

_It was my devotion to my father's memory, and my loyalty to my friends that gave me the strength to fight on. It was Lucina's determination to shield us from despair that destroyed Grima's otherworldly avatar._

_It was my mother's blind faith in my father's undying conviction that freed him and finally put an end to Grima._

_I know that this journey to Tellius is no simple matter. I know that finding Owain won't be easy, and suspect that in searching for him, I'll encounter all sorts of challenges. But I don't care, because I know I won't be overcome by them. If it was a simple matter of swordplay or magic, then there would be much to fear indeed, for I am not invincible. If it was a matter of tactics and strategy, though they are my strengths, I know I am far from insurmountable._

_But none of that really concerns me, because I know I'm on the right course. Because even though I should be full of doubt, I'm not._

_I'm not going to simply close my eyes and walk forward blindly, though. What a waste that would be! In a way, I'm just as eager as Priam to see what Tellius is like._

_I'm sure that in some ways, life in Tellius isn't too different from life in Ylisse. There will be little villages and big cities. There will be vast fields on the rolling green meadows, and busy ports bordering the sparkling blue seas. There will be farmers and merchants, nobles and peasants._

_But it will also be just a little bit different, won't it? When Soren told me about the heron Laguz, he reminded me of the legends I've read, legends that he or Ike probably spread themselves hundreds of years ago. Beorc and Laguz didn't always get along. Tellius has its own history, both bright and dark. And a lot can change in five hundred years. Even Soren can't know for sure what Tellius is like now._

_All that can create a very different world, too. Ferox and Ylisse are neighbors and have been allies, even since the First Plegian War, but both kingdoms have their own values and ways of life. Even little things like the type of food we eat and the clothes we wear are different. If you look at distant Valm, things are even more different. Trees covered in beautiful pink and white flowers instead of leaves. Majestic wild griffons making their nests amidst jagged mountain pinks. Houses with remarkably thin walls that would never hold up for long against a vicious summer storm or winter blizzard in Ylisse._

_And the people! It's usually not hard to see whether people in Ylisstol are from Ylisse, Ferox, or Plegia, because even though we all speak the same language, we all speak just slightly differently. Even though we all look human, we all look slightly different, too. The difference is even more obvious when it comes to some of the people of Valm. And in Tellius, it'll be even more pronounced, with the differences between Beorc and Laguz._

_I feel almost childish, thinking of the extraordinary sights I'll see in this strange new world, and the comforting familiarity that will keep it from feeling like a dream instead. But I can't help it. When we returned to Ylisse from Valm, I didn't remember any of Ylisse, but there was too much on my mind, too much on all of our minds, for me to really notice the differences around me, except when they related to the task on hand._

_But even though my task here isn't any less important, somehow, there's no urgency, either. Because I know everything will turn out okay in the end, this time._

_So I'll find Owain, and we'll find our way home and back to our lives. And in the meantime, I'll see what there is to see. I wish Dad was here. I'm sure he'd love to see Tellius, too._

_One thing concerns me, though. If there's one more thing that every place I've been has in common, it's trouble. I'm sure Tellius has its own thieves, bandits, schemers, and warmongers. Something I'd rather not see, but will probably end up coming across anyways._

_I know it's not my world, and I don't intend to be here for long. I know that, if possible, Priam, Soren, and I should stay away from any trouble, especially since we have our own problems to attend to. But can we really just turn our back on the people we meet like that?_

_I might not belong in Tellius, but I wonder if I'll have some part to play in the events around me, anyways._


	4. Chapter 1

**~ Chapter 1 ~**

"Wake up."

Morgan stirred drowsily. "Huh?"

"It's time for you to wake up," Soren said again. There was no urging in his voice, and he spoke in the same emotionless, matter-of-fact tone as always.

Morgan forced herself to sit up in her cot and stretched, wondering if she had overslept. It felt as if she had gone to bed only a short while ago. "What time is it?" Morgan asked, yawning.

"Just a few minutes past dusk," Soren replied.

Morgan shot him an annoyed look. "Then why are you waking me up now?" she protested. Normally, she didn't wake up until night had fallen in full.

"There's something Priam thought you should see," Soren said calmly, as imperturbable as always. "If you're not interested, you're welcome to return to your slumber," he added, as he headed for the staircase.

"Wait, I'm coming," Morgan said quickly, as she hopped out of bed. She should have known better, though, for Soren didn't stop, or even slow. Morgan didn't stop to change out of her nightclothes, and only tugged on her robe hastily before scrambling up the stairs after Soren.

Priam sighed as he saw Morgan stumbling up onto the deck. "I told you, there was no need to wake her up now! It's not like it's going to disappear!"

"Not like _what's_ going to disappear?" Morgan began to ask. She bit off the end of her question, though, for she spotted what Priam was referring to. A large landmass had appeared on the distant horizon. "Tellius," she breathed, awed.

"Indeed," Soren said.

"We're here!" Morgan cried excitedly a moment later, nearly jumping for joy and excitement, as the full impact of seeing their faraway destination hit her.

"Our voyage ends, and our adventure begins," Priam agreed solemnly, though he seemed just as pleased.

"Not quite," Soren corrected. "Our course has put us in line with either Crimea or Gallia. Neither will likely do us any good."

"Well, if it's the part of Tellius closest to Ylisse, wouldn't it be pretty likely that Owain is around here somewhere?" Morgan reasoned.

"It's possible," Soren conceded. "But both Crimea and Gallia are quite large, and that assumes your friend took the shortest route. Given how long he has been at sea, it is quite possible he ended up approaching Tellius from the north or south instead. Even if he did land in either Crimea or Gallia, he has had ample time to wander away by now."

"We need to begin somewhere, don't we?" Priam asked. "Why not here?"

Soren closed his eyes for a moment, exasperated. "We do have to start somewhere, but wandering aimlessly isn't the answer," Soren said. "Tell me, Morgan, would you be nearly as concerned if your friend was lost somewhere in Ylisse?"

Morgan blinked, surprised by the abrupt change in subject. "Probably not," she admitted.

"Why not?" Soren demanded, opening his eyes and staring at her intently.

"Because it wouldn't be very hard to find him, would it?" Morgan said.

"Really, now? How long will it take you to comb all of Ylisse on foot? Or even from the back of a Pegasus?" Soren asked.

"A while," Morgan admitted. "But I wouldn't be searching _everywhere_. Uncle Chrom is the exalt, and we have friends in Ferox, too, not to mention ambassadors in both Ferox and Plegia."

"Precisely," Soren said, with a slight nod of approval. "In Ylisse, you have steady and reliable sources of information with which to narrow your search. Tellius is even larger than Ylisse. Trying to search blindly is a waste of our time."

"So you think we should appeal to the locals for help," Morgan said slowly.

"But why would anyone help us? We don't know anyone here," Priam pointed out.

"But Soren does," Morgan interrupted. "Don't you?" she added hesitantly, when Soren didn't confirm her guess immediately.

"Perhaps," Soren replied noncommittally. "Although it's been five centuries, a few of my old companions may still live."

"Like the Laguz," Morgan said, nodding.

"No," Soren corrected immediately. "Though I fought alongside many of the Laguz, for a common cause, our relations were still quite strained. I admit, at one point of my life, I was not fond of the Laguz."

Morgan frowned. That seemed like quite an understatement: as far as she could tell, Soren wasn't particularly fond of anyone or anything.

"I thought Beorc and Laguz put some of their differences behind them during the war against King Ashnard, and later, the war against Ashera," Priam said.

"_Some_ of their differences," Soren emphasized. "For the most part, any new Beorc-Laguz relationships were centered upon the beast tribes of Gallia. But the beast Laguz do not live as long as the Laguz of other tribes. I am fairly certain that none of the beast Laguz who knew me remain among the living."

"Didn't you know Laguz from the bird and dragon tribes, too?" Morgan pointed out. "The stories implied as much."

"I did, but I was never particularly close to any of them," Soren admitted.

"Then what do we do?" Priam asked impatiently.

"We're searching for another of the branded," Morgan reasoned.

"The Maiden of Dawn, Micaiah, was descended from the herons," Soren confirmed. "She became the queen of Daein following the war. She may still remain in Daein, too."

"Would she be willing to help us?" Priam questioned.

"I can't be certain, of course. Our time together was short, and we never shared so much as a single private conversation. It has also been many centuries; if she yet lives, she will likely be a very different person from the woman I once knew," Soren said. "But at the very least, I remember her being more malleable and forgiving than the proud and vindictive bird Laguz."

"So we should head to Daein first, then," Priam summarized.

"Not yet," Morgan interrupted.

"Why not?" Priam asked, turning to her, confusion evident in his eyes.

"Because it's been five hundred years," Morgan reminded. "For all we know, there might not even _be_ a Daein anymore. And if there is, we have no idea whether Micaiah is still alive or whether she's still queen."

Soren nodded. "Very astute," he congratulated. Morgan was stunned by the surprising compliment, but Soren didn't seem to take any notice of her reaction. "I suggest we head towards where Daein's capital used to be. We can land along the coastline there and find our bearings."

"That sounds reasonable," Morgan agreed.

With a nod, Soren stepped up to the ship's wheel and adjusted their course, as Morgan started heading back to the cabin.

"Worth waking up early for?" Soren asked dryly, as the door swung open.

"Huh?" Morgan asked, turning back. "Oh, right," she added sheepishly, as she understood. "Yeah. Thanks." She aimed her words at Priam, as well, for according to Soren, it had been Priam's suggestion to begin with… sort of. Priam wasn't paying attention, though, and seemed lost in thought. "Priam?" Morgan called, concerned.

Priam gave a quick start. "What is it?"

"Thank you," Morgan repeated, smiling warmly.

Priam grinned crookedly. "It wasn't _my_ idea to wake you up. All I said was, 'Can you imagine how excited Morgan will be when she sees this?'"

"Well, thanks anyways," Morgan said, before returning to the cabin, gently closing the door behind her as she left.

* * *

Morgan had only been on one true voyage before this one, which was the return voyage from Valm. The two voyages really couldn't be compared in any way, for while she had been surrounded by friends and family during her first voyage, it had been under the shadow of the fell dragon and the death of her father, the anxiety and grief punctuated only by their preparations for their upcoming battles. When they approached the Plegian coast, the sense of uneasiness only grew.

In contrast, the voyage to Tellius was quite pleasant. Priam was fairly good company, even if Morgan usually found herself completely lost when trying to follow his philosophical talks. Soren, despite his distant demeanor, could be reasonably affable at times. And though Tellius remained visible on the horizon as the _Rainfell_ wrapped around Crimea in the north, all Morgan felt when she gazed upon the exotic land was curiosity.

And though she was tempted to just choose a nearby port to land in, she reminded herself to be patient. They had been at sea for about six weeks now. A few days wouldn't make a huge difference.

Priam, on the other hand, was having a surprisingly hard time concealing his own impatience. Though Priam often found serenity in meditation, ever since Tellius came into view, Morgan thought the blue-haired warrior seemed a bit agitated, as if the anticipation had grown too much to bear.

Strangest of all was Soren. "Soren, aren't you excited?" Morgan asked one morning, after the question had been gnawing at her all night long.

"Excited about what?" Soren asked, seeming genuinely confused by the question.

"You came all this way with us, right? Aren't you glad that you'll be able to see some of your friends and family soon?" Morgan wondered.

"What friends? What family?" Soren retorted, now clearly irritated.

"I thought Ike supposedly once said that he and all of his companions were more than just friends. He said that you were all family, right?" Morgan reminded. "We might see Micaiah soon, if she's still alive. And we might see some of the Laguz during our search, too, right? I know you said you weren't on best terms with them, but I bet they'll be glad to see you again after so long."

"They were _Ike's_ family. Not mine. And Micaiah and I weren't friends," Soren said, shaking his head. "Like I said, we were allies, at best, and not for very long."

"Hmm… what about your _real_ family, then? If they were herons, they might still be out there somewhere, right? Maybe we could find them, too, while we're here," Morgan offered.

"No thank you," Soren replied.

Morgan sighed. "Didn't you have _any_ friends? Anyone you cared about?" she asked, frustrated.

"I did have one friend. He and I left the continent together, in case you've forgotten," Soren reminded. "Why do you think I left? There would have been nothing left for me here with him gone."

Morgan winced, realizing that Soren's old friend was gone now, anyways. Lost to the passage of time, while Soren lingered behind alone. For a long moment, she said nothing, understanding that though Soren showed no outward sign of grief, the loss of Ike was probably far more impactful than Soren would admit to. Morgan felt a bit of connection, there, for she remembered what it was like thinking she had lost her father for good.

But for Soren, there was no returning what had been lost to him. No miracle lurked ahead, waiting to bring the Radiant Hero back into this world. And even if such a miracle could occur, what difference would it make? An ordinary human's lifespan would always seem too short in Soren's eyes.

"You can't live your life this way, Soren," Morgan finally said, sympathetically.

"It seems I am doing exactly that," Soren pointed out.

"But it all sounds so… empty," Morgan protested, struggling to find the right word. "It sounds like all you have is Priam."

"Do I? Priam will one day pass on, as his father before him, as his mother before him, as her mother before her," Soren said. Though his words were grim, his tone remained devoid of emotion.

"So what? Because they will all die one day, you don't want or need friends? You don't care about having a family?" Morgan asked, exasperated. As she spoke, she wondered why Soren's seemingly misguided sentiments bothered her so much.

"You called it emptiness. And I agree. Life is precisely that," Soren said.

"But it's not!" Morgan protested heatedly. "There's more to life than just existing! You can't be so afraid of loss that you hide yourself away for good!"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Soren replied calmly. "Some people are afraid of death. They invent meanings for life. They build monuments and seek legacies. They strive for their place in history. All of it only to convince themselves that when they die, their life will have had 'meaning'. _That_ is fear."

"Do you really believe that?" Morgan asked sadly. "That life is nothing more than existence?"

"It's not a matter of belief," Soren corrected. "Life and existence are one and the same. Any other purpose or meaning you would append to it is merely an illusion for your own comfort. There's nothing wrong with such an illusion, but an illusion it remains."

"So what's the difference between you, and, say, a tree?" Morgan demanded. "You're both alive, right? You both exist. If nothing else we do matters, if nothing we _feel_ matters, then what's the difference?"

"Maybe there isn't one," Soren said with a shrug, still maintaining perfect composure.

Morgan blew out a frustrated sigh, realizing that their conversation was going nowhere. She knew in her heart that Soren was wrong, but at the same time, she understood that her arguments would not sway beliefs that had grown fast over the course of centuries. She wondered if there was _anything_ that could sway him, at this point.

In the end, she decided to simply let the matter drop, tending to the lectern silently.

* * *

The following night, Morgan, Priam, and Soren were gathered on the deck. Nights out at sea were always a little colder, but this night had proved especially chilly. Morgan sat beside the lectern, wrapped comfortably in a warm blanket with a bowl of soup made from dried vegetables cupped between her hands. Priam sat on the deck a few paces away in a cross-legged position, with his eyes firmly shut.

"It looks like there's a port over there," Morgan noticed, as she spotted several docks in the distance, along the coast. They had traveled along a fairly straight northbound route, and the coast seemed closer at this point than it had ever been since they had sighted land.

"Port Toha," Soren guessed, remembering the port from his journeys long ago. "Or perhaps it has a new name, now."

"You've been there before?" Priam asked curiously, opening his eyes.

"A long time ago," Soren confirmed. "We've reached the northwest corner of Crimea, now. We should sail east from here."

Morgan didn't miss the longing look in Priam's eyes. "Soren, do you think we could stop here for information instead?" she suggested.

"We could, but what would be the purpose? We will still need to travel closer to Daein, and given the distance between us and our destination, any information we find here may not be reliable," Soren reminded.

"Maybe," Morgan said. "But it wouldn't take long to check, would it?"

"I suppose not, but it is rather late already," Soren said. "Unless you plan to wait around until morning, we won't have much time until most of the locals retire for the night.

"What do you think, Priam?" Morgan asked, turning to Priam though she knew already what his answer would be. "Would you mind stopping for a few hours?"

"It would be nice to tread upon solid ground once more," Priam said, nodding. "Even if only for a single evening."

"Let's go, then," Morgan decided cheerfully. She glanced at Soren, wondering if the delay would annoy the tactician, who seemed unimpressed with their odds of accomplishing anything useful here. But predictably, Soren didn't react at all, save for adjusting their course.

* * *

"This place looks pretty nice," Morgan commented optimistically, as they made their way through the quiet port toward a large tavern. A wooden board hung over the door.

"Silver Coin," Priam read from the sign, taking note of the picture of a large silver coin decorated with the face of a beautiful noblewoman.

"Why does the coin have a face on it?" Morgan asked Soren curiously.

"Tellius coins are often adorned with the faces of notable royals," Soren explained.

"That's pretty neat," Morgan said. "Though I don't think Uncle Chrom would want his face on a coin, come to think of it. It was pretty hard to convince him to sit still long enough for a family portrait."

"I've been meaning to ask, Morgan, is the exalt really your uncle?" Priam asked curiously.

"Not by blood," Morgan replied. "But my mom and the queen have been best friends since they were little girls. They're practically sisters. My dad and the exalt are as close as brothers, too." She reached for the fancy, gilded wooden door, which swung open easily on its well-oiled hinge despite its weight.

It was already quite late, and many of the tavern's patrons had already retreated to their rooms for the night. Still, the tavern was still open, and the tavern keeper looked up from the counter, where he was wiping away a spill, long enough to greet them with a polite nod and smile.

A young server gestured toward the nearest empty table, and after Morgan, Priam, and Soren seated themselves, she approached the table and presented them each with a carefully inked menu. "Just wave when you're ready to order," she said with a wide smile, before returning to her post beside the counter.

"This is a really fancy menu," Morgan said, awed by the carefully embossed, swirling letters. "Is this normal for Tellius?"

"Not that I recall," Soren said, as he set down the menu without sparing it another glance.

Beside him, Priam seemed quite intrigued by the tavern's selection. "Why would anyone make meat into a sauce? And what's 'pasta'?"

"The meat sauce is more like a stew than the sauces you're accustomed to," Soren explained briefly. "And pasta is simply their name for wheat noodles."

"I wonder if they serve the sauce by itself," Priam wondered, as he continued to browse the menu.

Morgan wasn't particularly hungry, even though all she had to eat since waking up a few hours ago was a bowl of soup made from dried vegetables, but curiosity got the best of her, and she, too, seemed engrossed by the list of unfamiliar dishes, until the serving girl returned.

"Are you having some trouble deciding?" the server asked politely.

Priam glanced up at his two companions. "What would you recommend, between the smoked sausage platter and the roasted boar?" he asked the server, when it looked like neither Morgan nor Soren were interested in ordering anything.

"Definitely the sausage. We import them straight from Gallia, where they're considered a delicacy," the server replied confidently.

"A Laguz delicacy. Wonderful," Soren muttered under his breath.

"What was that, sir?" the server asked, turning to him.

Soren said nothing, and Priam spoke up quickly. "I'll take your advice, then," he said, smiling.

"Of course. And for you two?" the server asked, turning to Soren, and then Morgan. Soren only shook his head.

"Actually, I had a question for you," Morgan began politely. "Have you met a young man named Owain? He's about my age, and has short brown hair. He usually carries a sword."

"I'm sorry, we get far too many customers for me to remember them all by name, and many of our patrons would fit that description," the server apologized politely.

"He often talks like he's acting out a part in a play, if that helps," Morgan added hopefully.

"Hmm… now that you mention it, there was a young sell sword in here the other day who did talk a little strangely," the server said hesitantly. "And he did have brown hair. But I think he was a pirate, actually."

"A pirate?" Morgan asked, startled.

"We get all types here in the Silver Coin," the server admitted. "And the man was carrying a battered old cutlass." Morgan shot her a blank look. "A short, slightly curved sword that's often favored by pirates," the server clarified.

Morgan tried not to be too disappointed. The odds of Owain happening upon the exact same tavern had been quite low, she reminded herself. "Thanks anyways," she said politely. She glanced at the menu again, noticing the odd assortment of drinks.

"The tropical juice blend is particularly sweet this year," the server offered when she noticed Morgan's interest.

"All right, I'll have a mug of that then," Morgan agreed. "Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't want anything, sir?" the server asked Soren, who had leaned back in his chair and assumed a rather relaxed posture.

"I'm sure," Soren replied. "Who rules Daein, now?" he added abruptly.

Morgan was stunned by his forwardness. Ever since they'd landed, she had been wondering how they'd broach that particular subject; the leadership of Daein could have easily passed to another centuries ago, and it would be hard to mention it without possibly exposing the fact that none of them were familiar with current events in Tellius.

"Queen Micaiah, of course," the server said, shooting him a strange look. "Daein has stood by its immortal queen for centuries, so they say. You can't have honestly expected that to change, despite the ill rumors."

"What rumors?" Priam blurted out instinctively.

"You know, the rumors that the queen is sponsoring the Redeemers. Honestly, I think it's just because the Redeemers wear black armor, just like the Daein soldiers. No one seems to be taking those rumors seriously, anyways, and there's just as many people pointing fingers at King Phoenicis," the server said nonchalantly, clearly enjoying the gossip.

"Thank you for your time," Soren interrupted hastily, before the conversation could get carried away. "I think I _will_ have something, after all. A goblet of wine, if you please."

"Of course, sir," the server said, quickly returning to her work. She set off, and returned a few minutes later with Priam's meal and the two drinks, but before she could pick up the conversation where they had left off, a pair of grizzled old sailors stalked onto the tavern, and she set off to attend to the tavern's newest customers.

"So if Micaiah still rules Daein, then we should be safe to travel directly there, right?" Morgan asked quietly, when she was confident no one else was paying attention. She sipped slowly at the juice the server had brought her, which was surprisingly sweet.

"It might be," Soren said in an equally soft tone. His drink sat within easy reach, but he had only ordered it to divert the server's attention and wasn't particularly interested in actually drinking it. "But I still think we should land a safe distance from the capital and see what we can learn there. The rumors our talkative server spoke of may be simply idle gossip, but if there is any sort of political trouble, it's best if we can stay clear of it."

"Good point," Morgan agreed. "Where should we land, then?"

"If Micaiah has not moved Daein's capital, then our final destination will be Nevassa. It lies quite far in-land. There's several ports along Tellius's northern coast, where Crimea and Daein border the Orribes Sea. We may as well land and head east from there, and see what we can learn during our trek towards the capital," Soren suggested.

Morgan smiled and nodded. Though Soren seemed to take no notice of her gratitude, Morgan was inwardly quite thankful that Soren had offered to travel to Tellius with her and Priam. She hadn't even realized that she would need another mage to keep the lectern active around the clock until they set off on their journey, and Soren was a seemingly endless well of good advice.

In that way, at least, Soren was strangely similar to Morgan's father. Both Robin and Soren were extremely clever and wise, and could always be relied upon for direction in times of uncertainty. Morgan couldn't help but wonder how the years had changed Soren, and what kind of man the tactician had been five centuries ago. "Maybe you weren't quite such a grouch back then," Morgan muttered aloud.

"Oh, I certainly was," Soren assured wryly, overhearing her and apparently guessing her line of thought easily enough. He didn't seem to be insulted, but Morgan still blushed, embarrassed, and remained tactfully silent for the rest of the evening.

* * *

The _Rainfell_ set out from Toha late that night, and made straight for the Orribes Sea without further delay. A mere three days later, they turned, following the coast as it curved inward.

"We just passed the Crimea-Daein border," Soren explained as Morgan emerged from the cabin, ready for her shift at the lectern. "Keep an eye out for any ports. If you see one after I've retired for the night, wake me."

"Alright," Morgan agreed cheerily. "Oh, and good evening to you, too, Soren," she added teasingly.

Soren said nothing and only looked out to sea. Curiously, Morgan followed his gaze up into the night sky. High above the northern horizon, shimmering golden lights weaved back and forth, as if they were dancing between the stars. The ocean's surface was relatively calm, and the reflections seemed to be mimicking the dance deep below the clear water's surface, too. "Wow," Morgan gasped. "What is that?"

"I'm not sure," Soren admitted.

Morgan rounded on him, flabbergasted. "You're not sure?" she repeated, eyeing him strangely.

"Why is that so strange?" Soren asked, returning her stare.

"I just got used to thinking you knew everything," Morgan said, laughing lightly as she turned back to the strange lights. "You know, I read about lights like these once. Last time I was in Ferox I stayed up late just to see them, but it was too cloudy. They were supposed to be all sorts of different colors though. Maybe the ones here in Tellius are a little bit different."

"Maybe," Soren said disinterestedly.

"I wish Severa was here to see this," Morgan added quietly to herself, in a wistful tone. "I wonder if she'll even believe me when I tell her about it." She seated herself beside the lectern, though she turned her chair to face north instead.

Soren was about to protest when he caught a glimpse of the entranced expression Morgan still wore. With a slight, rueful smile, he decided against reminding Morgan that any ports they found would be along the coast and to the east, not high in the northern skies. Instead, he silently excused himself. Unnoticed by Morgan, he quietly made his way across the deck towards the cabin door.

At the entrance, he turned and looked up at the sky once more. Morgan's words about thinking he knew everything resonated strangely in his mind, and he almost laughed.

"Are you watching this too, Nestor?" Soren said quietly. "Probably not. I can only hope that whatever afterlife you've found is more interesting than the affairs and mysteries of the life you've left behind."

As he spoke, he could almost hear his old companion's words on the gentle ocean breeze. "Mysteries? You mean, there's actually something that the ancient and omniscient Soren doesn't know?"

Soren's gaze slowly drifted down to the ocean's quiet waves. "It's too bad you weren't here to meet Morgan. She reminds me a bit of you," he mused quietly. "Though thankfully, she's not quite as sarcastic as you were. On second thought, maybe it's for the best that you aren't here. This way, at least there's a chance that whatever remains of my sanity may survive."

Soren suddenly remembered that he wasn't alone on the deck, and he glanced back at Morgan, who was still staring up at the sky in a mesmerized fashion. Satisfied that his companion remained lost in her own world for the moment, Soren retreated to the cabin below without another word.

* * *

A small port came into sight early the following afternoon, and under Morgan's careful guidance the _Rainfell_ came to a gentle stop beside one of the rickety old docks.

"Morgan, would you like to get some rest before we disembark? We can set out this evening, or tomorrow morning perhaps," Priam offered, as Morgan expertly maneuvered the _Rainfell_ to a rest alongside a rather rickety and unstable dock.

"I'll be fine," Morgan assured, as she eyed the small town. Compared to Port Toha, this small, nameless port seemed quite destitute. Even in the middle of the day, the docks were quiet, save for a pair of watchmen who glared at them suspiciously. "Soren… I mean, Senerio," she amended hastily when she realized the watchmen may be able to overhear them soon.

"You can use my real name here. Even if the tale of the Radiant Hero is more well-known in these parts, it's less of a local legend. I doubt anyone will make the connection," Soren said, as he lifted his traveling pack. Priam and Morgan hastily followed suit; all three of them had prepared their belongings the night before.

Morgan nodded as she slung her pack over her shoulder. "Are you sure it's safe for us to land here? Those guards don't look so happy to see us," she observed, as the two watchmen began approaching.

"This is a quiet port. I doubt they see many visitors, save for the regular merchants. They will naturally be suspicious of strangers," Soren explained.

Priam adopted a rather sad expression. "That is unfortunate," Priam said. "If they look upon strangers for hostility, how can they expect their society to flourish and remain part of the greater world around it?"

"This isn't Azure Pyre," Soren reminded. "Azure Pyre is full of former soldiers and mercenaries, and has little to fear from bandits." As he spoke, he hopped down onto the dock. Priam followed reluctantly, with a wary glance at the approaching watchmen. Morgan was the last to disembark, and did so just as the first watchman hailed them.

"You there!" he said, in a demanding tone, trying to sound authoritative. "State your business!" Oddly enough, the man seemed to focus entirely on Morgan and Soren, ignoring Priam entirely.

"We are traveling to Nevassa. Our business is our own," Soren said. "How much will it cost to leave our ship under your protection?"

The watchman blinked, looking rather foolish, when Soren mentioned the possibility of leaving the ship here. It was a common in practice in larger ports, but this port wasn't used to visitors. His partner, though, remained suspicious. "What are you wearing beneath your robes?" he demanded.

"Clothes. What did you expect?" Soren asked dryly. He tugged at his garment slightly, revealing his dark shirt and light breeches, and a wind tome prominently displayed, hanging from his belt. The second watchman nodded, satisfied, and turned to Morgan.

"Let me see your sword," the second watchman instructed, as he spotted Eternity hanging from Morgan's belt. Confused, Morgan obediently unsheathed the silver weapon, and the suspicious guard nodded, satisfied. "Are you in any way affiliated with the Redeemers?" he added.

"No," Soren replied calmly.

"Welcome to our humble port, then," the first watchman said, relaxing noticeably. "You are welcome to keep your ship here as long as you wish, but it will cost you twenty gold for each day."

Soren stared at him appraisingly, before nodding, guessing that the price was probably the standard fare at any of the ports in the region. "We'll be staying here for at least two weeks. Perhaps longer. We'll pay you for the first two weeks now, and the remainder when we return," Soren agreed.

After Morgan paid the guard the promised amount, the three of them set off down the cobblestone street. There could see two inns, but neither appeared as prosperous as the Silver Coin in Port Toha. "Who are the Redeemers?" Morgan asked curiously, as they approached the nearest of the two inns.

"I have no idea," Soren admitted. "But the serving maid in the Silver Coin mentioned them, too. Whoever they are, it seems the common folk of Tellius aren't fond of them."

"And they wear black armor," Priam remembered. "I guess that's why the two guards were suspicious of your robes."

"The two guards were suspicious because they were fools," Soren said scathingly. "If we truly intended this port harm, and meant to sneak in undetected, we would have hid any distinguishing features. And besides, it's pretty obvious that neither Morgan nor I are wearing any armor."

"They must be really worried about these Redeemers," Morgan said, as they entered the inn.

The inn was practically empty. A middle-aged couple sat in the far corner, each wearing an old, worn leather scabbard with equally worn sword hilts visible. An older man with steel-gray hair sat in the corner closest to the door.

"It is only natural," the gray haired man said, apparently overhearing Morgan. "Though little is known of the Redeemers, their shadow has only grown darker, of late."

Morgan cringed, for she had certainly not meant to be overheard. But Soren took it in stride. Soren glanced at the man casually, immediately spotting the knowing gleam in the stranger's eyes. "We have been on the road for some time," Soren said. "And I'm afraid we've heard little of the rumors. Would you be willing to enlighten us, perhaps?"

"Of course. Have a seat," the man said kindly, gesturing toward the empty chairs around his table.

Morgan and Priam both glanced at Soren, waiting until Soren nodded and seated himself before following suit. Morgan, too, had noticed something rather odd with the man's demeanor, and tried to hide her discomfort. Something told her that this man already knew they weren't ordinary travelers.

"My name is Tantalus," the man introduced. "Might I ask yours?"

Despite his earlier words to Morgan, Soren found himself carefully considering his answer. Finally, he decided on the truth, reasoning that he had no real enemies in Tellius. "Soren," he replied. As he spoke, he eyed Tantalus closely, watching for the other man's reaction. "With me are my friends, Morgan and Priam."

"You are named after the legendary tactician, I presume," Tantalus said with a smile, recognizing the name immediately. "I'm sure you know of the increased eidolon activity, at least, and the tragedy that befell Port Toha two years ago. More and more, it's become apparent that the mysterious faction styling themselves as the Redeemers is responsible for both occurrences."

In fact, Soren didn't know about either event, but for now it seemed prudent to pretend otherwise. "I've heard a few whispers saying as much, but I had thought them to be only idle gossip," Soren said calmly.

Tantalus sighed dramatically. "If only that were the case," he said, with a wistful smile. "It seems the Redeemers have been seen venturing north lately. It's probably not a huge cause for concern, since their activities have been subtle, with the noticeable exception of Port Toha, but naturally, it has left the populace feeling rather uncomfortable," he added.

"I've heard rumors that the queen herself might be involved," Soren said.

"It is possible," Tantalus admitted with a shrug. "But not very likely. Queen Micaiah has always been a wise and just ruler, who puts her people first and foremost."

"And yet her people live in fear," Soren pointed out.

"The queen can't be everywhere at once," Tantalus replied bluntly. "Daein's army wanders throughout the country now, lending what aid they can, and the queen has reached out to our allied kingdoms for help. But they are merely chasing shadows."

"That seems quite unfortunate," Morgan said, carefully suppressing the many questions that came to mind.

"The three of you don't seem like normal travelers," Tantalus observed. "We don't get too many visitors in these parts. Most heading to Nevassa by sea prefer the northern ports, even though the road from here to the capital is shorter. Though I guess it's none of my business," he finished with a shrug.

"Our business is no secret," Soren said casually. "We're looking for a friend of ours. Naturally, we thought to begin our search in the capital, and thought to take the quickest route."

"I see," Tantalus said. "Take care then, my friends. The roads around here have been rather treacherous, lately."

"We can take care of ourselves," Priam assured.

Just then, shouting rang out from the streets. Most of the warning cries were garbled, but the word "eidolon" could be clearly heard. "I sure hope so," Tantalus said with a wry smile, as the inn's other two patrons immediately reached for their swords, staring at the door fearfully. The inn's proprietor, an elderly man, emerged from the back room a moment later clutching a heavy club.

Soren glanced at Morgan. "What do you think, Morgan?"

Morgan was surprised that Soren would be so willing to leave the choice to her. The decision was an easy one to make, though, for someone who had once been part of the Shepherds. "We have to help them," Morgan decided immediately and without hesitation. She leapt to her feet, reaching for her sword and tome.

"Of course. No true warrior would abandon the vulnerable in their time of need," Priam said, as he, too, reached for his weapon.

Soren only nodded wordlessly as he drew his own tome and headed for the door.


	5. Chapter 2

**~ Chapter 2 ~**

The warning cries had not fallen on deaf ears, but it seemed most of the villagers reacted by hiding themselves away behind barricaded doors. A few had emerged from their homes with a mix of improvised weapons, and there were a handful of guards armed only with rusty lances.

Soren took all of this in after only a few seconds, before turning his attention to the strange creatures running down the street after the guards. He could vaguely recall reading a few references to the eidolons centuries ago, but had never seen one before. "We're going to be outnumbered," he said, sounding thoroughly unconcerned.

"How badly?" Morgan asked, as she finished appraising their allies in this battle and mapping out their positions. There were only twelve of the villagers on the streets in total. She turned to the approaching eidolons, and upon seeing them, her eyes widened.

The misshapen creatures advanced upon them with surprising speed, given their stubby legs. They crawled on all fours, using their long arms to advance, gouging marks in the cobblestone road with their vicious talons. They bore a striking and unnerving resemblance to the flying creatures Morgan had seen in the oculus; their flesh was pitch-black, and their heads resembled human skulls, their eye sockets dotted with glowing, golden flames. "Those are the eidolons?" Morgan asked, instinctively looking to Soren for answers.

"I guess. How should I know?" Soren replied, sounding irritated.

Before Morgan could comment on how familiar the creatures looked, a buzzing sound announced the arrival of nearly a dozen more foes. Morgan looked up and gasped aloud, immediately recognizing the flying creatures approaching them. "That's them! The creatures from the Oculus!" she cried.

"The villagers won't be able to handle the crawling ones," Soren said brusquely, not allowing himself to be distracted. "They're too fast, and their reach is too long. The flying ones seem to be even faster, but with their poor reach, the villagers may be able to hold their own against them for some time."

"Try to keep the flying ones at bay. I can take care of the crawling ones," Priam promised confidently, and he advanced boldly to meet the approaching eidolons. Though there were more than a score of the crawling menaces, Priam pressed on undaunted. Ragnell easily sliced through the first eidolon, before Priam took a step back and called upon the sword's blessing, projecting a wave of raw energy that tore through a second crawler nearly ten paces away.

"Leave the flying ones to me," Soren instructed Morgan coolly, taking no note of Priam's impressive display. "You help Priam with the crawlers." With that, he took several steps back so that he could accurately line up his spells with their descending aerial foes.

Obediently, Morgan advanced a few steps, and sent a pair of fireballs into the approaching horde of eidolons. Each spell took an eidolon down, as Priam cleaved down two more, but the remaining eidolons swarmed around the young warrior. Briefly, Morgan considered drawing her sword and joining the melee herself, but Morgan wasn't sure she'd be quite as comfortable as Priam in the midst of all the chaos. She looked around frantically for another solution, her gaze quickly coming to a rest on a pair of discarded, empty wooden barrels lying beside the other inn they had seen earlier. "Soren! Throw those barrels into the road!" she called.

Soren understood her plan easily enough, and after blasting away a pair of the flying eidolons, his next carefully angled spell sent both barrels tumbling into the street, near Priam. Priam saw the spell connect and leapt clear immediately, leaving Morgan's line of fire clear.

Magical flames soared out, igniting the barrels which Morgan had rightly recognized as empty wine barrels. Some of the liquor had seeped into the wood, and the two barrels burned intensely, closing off half of the road. She knew the flames wouldn't last too long, but with the added obstacle, the battlefield was far more constrained and manageable now. She began her own advance, her sword at the ready, when she realized there was really no need. Priam was taking full advantage of the diversion and destroying eidolon after eidolon, the creatures crumbling to ash as soon as they were cut down, and soon, the road was covered with a thin layer of black powder.

Instead, Morgan raced to one of the alleyways. As she predicted, a pair of the eidolons had tried to find a way around the main road to avoid the flaming chokepoint. She disposed of one immediately with a burst of fire, and after weeks of sparring with Priam, her remaining foe's movements seemed painfully sluggish. It only took a single, precise swing to leave the second crawler lying on the ground, crumbling to ash.

She waited a moment longer, eyeing the opposite entrance of the alleyway. Finally satisfied that no more eidolons were trying to make their way around Priam, she turned and raced back to the market square.

Morgan had agreed with Soren's assessment of their enemies, but it became quickly apparent that the villagers were more inept than they appeared. Soren had destroyed most of the fliers, but three of the survivors had made their way past Soren's deadly reach, and descended upon the panicked, ragtag militia, leaving two of them dead and four more injured. Altogether, the rest of the defenders had only managed to dispatch a single enemy before Soren caught up and destroyed the last of the fliers.

"Get a healer!" one man cried, the only man wearing armor, though his armor looked as ragged and timeworn as their lances. "You two," he added, gesturing toward two of the uninjured fighters. "Help me lift this man, he's got a broken leg," he barked, pointing at one of the fallen men.

"Wait, no! Don't move him!" Morgan interrupted. "I have a staff with me."

The captain looked at her doubtfully, but backed away when he saw her produce a healing staff from her traveling pouch and approached the injured man's crumpled form. A moment later, the bleeding had stopped along with the man's painful groans, and Morgan turned her attention to the other three wounded villagers instead.

"Thank you," the captain said gratefully, when Morgan's work was finished. "That could have turned out far worse if you and your friends weren't here."

Morgan nodded, though she couldn't help but glance at the two dead villagers sadly. She was no stranger to death, but the way the eidolons had attacked seemingly without rhyme or reason was painfully familiar.

"We did what we could," Soren said, his words startling Morgan. At first, she thought he had been talking to the captain, but he was leveling his penetrating stare right at her.

"I know," Morgan said, after a brief pause.

Soren nodded, satisfied, and turned to the captain. "Have the eidolons attacked your village before?" he questioned.

The captain grimaced. "They have, but never before in such numbers. Normally it's no more than half a dozen of the crawlers."

"Crawlers?" Morgan asked.

"Wights," Tantalus corrected, as he walked out into the village square. "The eidolons with long arms, short feet, and hunched posture. Mercenaries and soldiers often call them crawlers. The flying variant, wraiths, are often simply referred to as fliers," he explained nonchalantly. "Speaking of which, you missed a handful of wraiths approaching from the west," he added, gesturing toward a road on the opposite side of the square covered in dark ash. As he spoke, he stashed a tome of his own beneath his cloak.

"We keep hoping the queen will send some soldiers our way, but with eidolons appearing out of thin air… well, the royal army can't be everywhere at once, can they?" the captain said bitterly.

"I guess not," Priam said, surveying the damage the eidolons had caused. Though he had known how unprepared normal villages would be for such raids, seeing the stark contrast between the vulnerable, smaller towns and Azure Pyre firsthand was alarming.

"Do you and your companions still intend to travel to Nevassa alone?" Tantalus asked Soren.

"Indeed," Soren replied, with a slight nod. "In fact, we should probably be leaving now."

"Why don't the three of you share a drink with me before you leave?" Tantalus invited. "I have a proposition for you. If you are searching for a friend, I may be able to offer you some help."

"What do you think, Morgan?" Soren asked, promptly dumping the decision in her lap instead.

"Sure," Morgan agreed, still shaken by the encounter. She wasn't sure how much help Tantalus could be in searching for Owain, but he seemed surprisingly well-versed regarding the mysterious eidolons, and the striking similarity between the eidolons and the massive sea creature that attacked Ylisse was impossible to miss.

* * *

When they returned to the inn, they found that the innkeeper was nowhere in sight, and the rest of the inn's guests had quickly disappeared as well. "I suppose we'll just have to help ourselves," Tantalus said with a sigh, and he started making his way over to the abandoned counter.

"Forget about the drinks," Soren interrupted curtly, gesturing toward the nearest table.

Tantalus shot him a curious look, then smiled. "As you wish," he agreed deferentially. "You're not named after the Radiant Hero's tactician, are you, Soren?" he began, as soon as they were all seated.

"What makes you say that?" Soren asked, feigning disinterest.

"The brand on your forehead, for one," Tantalus said dryly. "My guess is that you are far older than you appear. And the other reason would be your companion's sword," he added, with a slight nod towards Priam. "The holy blade, Ragnell, thought lost to the world when you and the Radiant Hero left Tellius centuries ago."

Morgan wasn't sure how Soren intended to play this encounter out, so she kept her face perfectly emotionless, hiding her surprise. Priam, on the other hand, was too late to hide his own shock. It seemed to matter little, for Tantalus was confident in his guess, and stared unwaveringly at Soren.

"It's been five centuries. The story of the Radiant Hero is a mere legend by now," Soren said, matching Tantalus's stare with his own, calculating and penetrating ruby eyes. "But let's say you're right. Why would it matter to you, Tantalus?"

Tantalus leaned back in his chair, assuming a more relaxed posture. "I know more about the Redeemers than most," he admitted. "I counted myself among their number once, you see. I am a spirit charmer, and as a younger man, I had hoped that my unexplored powers could be used to change the world for the better. But over the years, my former compatriots have lost their way, distracted by their lust for power. When I abandoned their cause, they labeled me as one of their greatest enemies."

"I see. And if the people of this village were to learn of your history?" Soren asked, sounding bored.

"Then I will have to leave. I doubt they would try to stop me, Soren. You've seen how poorly they fight," Tantalus reminded. "But what good would that do you, I wonder? The Redeemers are indeed responsible for most of the eidolon activity, you see, as well as the devastation Maelstrom brought upon Port Toha. You would further their cause?"

"I know nothing of their cause, and care even less," Soren said dismissively. "And Port Toha looked perfectly fine when we passed through recently."

Tantalus smiled. "You've only recently returned to Tellius, haven't you? Maelstrom completely annihilated Port Toha over two years ago. It was rebuilt, of course, but the tale has spread all across the continent by now."

"Who is Maelstrom?" Morgan asked, throwing caution to the winds.

"A massive eidolon, resembling a giant cetacean creature," Tantalus explained. "It is one of the dire eidolons, entities forged from the unity of many, many spirits. It is said dire eidolons can never be truly destroyed, only banished back to their own realm. Even when they are banished, a fragment of their essence permanently stains our world. The Redeemers discovered Maelstrom's essence, and using it, returned Maelstrom to our world."

"Why are you telling us this?" Soren interrupted, trying to divert Tantalus's attention from Morgan's look of shocked recognition.

"Because I need your help," Tantalus admitted. "The Redeemers are too many for me to overcome alone. They have also infiltrated almost every one of Tellius's kingdoms: Begnion, Crimea, Daein, Gallia, and Phoenicis have all suffered their intrusions. Only Goldoa remains beyond their silent, yet deadly reach, but King Goldoa disappeared almost two years ago. Without his leadership, even the mighty dragon Laguz may be vulnerable."

"You need our help," Soren echoed. "What for?"

"Maelstrom isn't the only dire eidolon," Tantalus explained softly. "Over the centuries, Tellius has been visited by no less than three dire eidolons, and while Calamity's destruction remains a mystery, Extinction was vanquished in this region roughly two centuries ago, so say the stories."

"And its essence remains, which the Redeemers now seek," Soren interpreted.

"Perhaps," Tantalus said. But the Redeemers don't need Extinction. They are manipulating the kingdoms into war with one another, and have armies of common eidolons at the ready. Their attempt to summon Maelstrom was a mistake that nearly unraveled their plans, but they done their best to salvage the situation. They are now poised to sweep across Tellius like a storm, destroying the peace we have known. The peace you and your companions fought to create, centuries ago."

"But why?" Priam asked. "Why would they seek to do such terrible things? What could they hope to gain?"

Tantalus blew out a disappointed sigh. "They are proud and arrogant. Their pacts with the spirits have rewarded them with powers far beyond that of ordinary men. I once believed that simply demonstrating the extent of our power in a peaceful and constructive manner would give us the influence to better the world, but I was blind to the truth of my former compatriots. They seek nothing short of absolute control."

"If they are truly as strong as you are implying, then there is little the three of us could offer to your cause," Soren pointed out. "Even if we were to join you, the four of us hardly constitute an army."

"I'm well aware of that," Tantalus said heavily. "That is why I seek Extinction myself. I need to find Extinction's essence first. I will turn Extinction against the Redeemers and their common eidolons. It might be enough to keep the war the Redeemers have planned from ending in a complete slaughter."

"Fascinating," Soren said, though he sounded as if he couldn't care less. "But you said you may be able to help us in our search. Was that merely a bluff to get our attention?"

Tantalus shook his head. "My offer was sincere. Over the years, I have developed a wider range of magical talents. Among my many inventions is a spell that allows me to magically search an area from afar. I have been using it in my own search for Extinction's essence, and the same skill might be of use to you, too, in locating your missing friend."

Soren looked briefly at Priam, then Morgan. Priam seemed to be quite uncertain. Morgan only returned Soren's glance with an uneasy expression. Though Tantalus's words seemed sincere and noble, somehow, Morgan instinctively knew that Tantalus was lying to them, or at least omitting part of the truth. And if Maelstrom was the same creature that had attacked Ylisse, they certainly could not allow a dire eidolon to fall into the wrong hands.

Soren turned back to Tantalus, giving no indication that he noticed or shared Morgan's fears. "I'm sorry, Tantalus," he apologized. "But my part in saving the world from itself came to an end centuries ago. I think we would do better to follow our original course to Nevassa."

Tantalus nodded acceptingly. "Fair enough. I don't believe anyone has the right to ask anything more from you. But if you reconsider, come to the Snowflake Forest, southwest of here, just across the Crimea-Daein border."

"We will," Soren agreed, as he stood to leave. "Farewell."

* * *

Morgan's mind was racing as they exited the inn and made their way toward the harbor town's east gate. She kept replaying the encounter with Tantalus as she tried to commit every detail to memory, knowing that any information about these eidolons could one day prove critical. It was terrifying to think that power struggles in such a distant land had already touched their home, and it seemed that Maelstrom had only been the beginning.

It wasn't until they were out of town and following the dirt path east that she remembered the real reason they had come to Tellius. By now, any hope of simply finding Owain and returning to their own lives had been dashed. She couldn't be certain, of course, but it seemed that even before Owain had found Tellius, their two worlds had been connected. Tellius's plight could easily one day become theirs.

After twenty minutes on the road, Morgan could hold her silence no longer. "What are we going to do about Tantalus?" she asked.

"Why do we have to do anything?" Soren asked. "We may not need his help to find your friend, and Tellius's political affairs don't concern us."

Priam gaped at him. "Uncle, how can you ignore such a dangerous scheme? You saw what the eidolons did to the port! Can you imagine the devastation if we didn't happen to be passing through?" he protested.

"Then I suppose we should hope Tantalus succeeds in defeating the Redeemers," Soren said with a shrug. "Besides, I've read about eidolons before. They were incredibly rare, from what I remember. Spirit charmers aren't common, either. What we've seen already could very well be the worst Tellius has to offer."

"Do you really trust Tantalus?" Morgan said hesitantly.

"Of course not. But neither do I distrust him," Soren replied.

"Morgan told us of the creature that attacked Ferox," Priam reminded. "If that was Maelstrom, to allow so much power to rest in the hands of a single man, particularly a man who has admitted to once working alongside his present enemies…"

"Don't be so quick to judge," Soren interrupted harshly, sounding surprisingly defensive "There are very few saints in our world. Sometimes, it takes an unsavory past to bring out the best in people." He turned to Morgan and nodded meaningfully. "You should know, Morgan. Wasn't your father once a willing servant of the fell dragon?"

Morgan stared at him blankly, even as she tried to process the strange comment. Soren's remark could not have been any farther from the truth. But just as she was about to protest aloud, the true meaning of Soren's words sunk in. "That's true," she amended quickly, trying to hide her surprise and bring an end to the conversation. "I guess you're right then. We should just keep to our own business, for now." She shot Priam a meaningful stare, hoping that Priam would understand that Soren was hoping to avoid the subject entirely, at least for the time being.

"As I was saying, Tantalus and his problems are none of our concern. At least, not unless our journey to Nevassa leaves us empty-handed," Soren said coolly. "Now, if I recall correctly, there's a larger town to the east. We should be able to reach it by nightfall, and from there we may be able to find passage with trade caravans to hasten our journey."

Morgan nodded in agreement and said nothing more. Inwardly, she wondered what Soren, cryptic as ever, was thinking. For some unfathomable reason, Soren wanted to drop any discussion of Tantalus and the spirit charmer's schemes, even though the three of them were apparently alone on the open road.

With a resigned sigh, Morgan realized Soren wasn't going to elucidate any further until he felt like it. She could only hope that Soren wouldn't keep them in the dark forever, though she couldn't help but wonder if it was only an elaborate prank. Revenge for her mildly annoying antics during the voyage, perhaps.

"No," she muttered, remembering that Soren wasn't quite so petty. With that, Morgan finally put her doubts out of mind, deciding to trust in Soren for now. Instead, she contented herself with enjoying the warm summer scenery of Daein's countryside. It was almost like being home again, traveling through the quieter parts of Ylisse with the Shepherds and keeping an eye out for the unlikely signs of trouble.

* * *

They reached a small farming village that afternoon. It wasn't the town Soren was looking for and they were the town's only visitors for the time being. Once they realized they weren't going to find any trade caravans here, they passed through with only a few polite greetings to the villagers. The villagers evidently didn't see travelers frequently, for curious stares followed them all the way past the village gates.

"You seem disappointed," Priam commented abruptly, a few minutes after they were away from the village.

"Me?" Morgan asked, turning to Priam with a surprised look.

"Yes. Were you hoping that we'd be able to find a ride in the village?" Priam asked.

"No, nothing like that," Morgan said. "I just thought the village seemed a little bit too normal."

Priam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The village looks just like the small farming communities in Ylisse," Morgan clarified. "The farmhouses are pretty much the same, and even the fields are full of the same vegetables."

"Well, of course it does. Farms are simple in design, to suit a similarly simple lifestyle," Priam said with a shrug. "They build their homes from the sturdy, yet workable lumber, and pave their main roads with cobblestone so that they're more suitable for carts and wagons."

"I suppose," Morgan conceded. "And the wood they're using does look a little bit different. They come from different trees, probably. I guess I was just hoping for Tellius to have a bit more of an exotic flair, like Ferox."

"What is Ferox like?" Priam asked curiously.

"Different," Morgan said, with a slight smile. "Everything just seems a little bit rougher. Have you ever been to Ylisstol?"

"I visited the Ylisstol market once, briefly," Priam said. "It was over a decade ago, though, and I hardly remember it."

"Well, the houses in Ylisse tend to be built from thin, wooden planks. Most furnishings tend to be carefully built by artisans, who try for a more polished look. But in the countryside…" Morgan began.

"Most of the furniture looks homemade," Priam said, nodding. "It's the same way in Azure Pyre. We do have a few carpenters and smiths, but even their work tends to be more utilitarian."

"Utilitarian, yes. That's a perfect word to describe Ferox," Morgan said with a grin. "Even in the capital city of Regna Ferox, houses are built simply by stacking logs atop each other. The carpenters trim them to the same length and cut notches in them so that they can hold together, but with the harsh weather, they want their houses to be as sturdy as possible. And their furniture is the same way. Heck, their favorite chairs are basically tree stumps with a polished surface. Sturdy and easy to build."

"It sounds almost… lazy," Priam remarked. "What about their farms? Do they just grow crops wherever, then?"

"Of course not," Morgan said. "Crops tend to grow best when spaced out properly. Some farmers have tried planting them haphazardly, but then the ones that are planted too close to each other tend to grow poorly."

"Really? So that's why farmers always plant their crops in straight lines," Priam realized. He shot Morgan a strange look. "Why do you know so much about farming? I thought you grew up in a castle."

"I just read a few manuals on farming in Dad's library," Morgan replied.

"Why were you reading books about farming?" Priam asked. "Actually, never mind, I think I know," Priam said, when he remembered just how much Morgan loved reading.

"I read a little bit of everything," Morgan answered anyways. "Although at the time, I was wondering what it would take to grow vegetables in Castle Ylisse's gardens."

"Don't they have vegetables growing in the gardens already?" Priam asked.

"The castle's gardens aren't for food," Morgan said quickly, laughing. "They're for decoration, mostly, and filled with flowers."

"That sounds like a waste of space," Priam said disappointedly.

"No way. The flowers are really pretty," Morgan insisted. "It might not serve any _practical_ purpose, but it's nice to look at."

"But you said you wanted to grow vegetables in it," Priam pointed out.

"Oh, that's because one of my dad's friends found a mixture that can change the color of flowers," Morgan explained. "She tried growing a few roses with it, and the roses came out blue. I was just wondering whether we could get blue corn or tomatoes, too. Just for fun, you know?"

Priam laughed. "I guess that would be a pretty strange sight." His expression then grew wistful. "Now that you mention it, it sounds like there's quite a bit in Ylisse that I have yet to see."

"Well, maybe when this is all over, you could come visit us in Ylisstol," Morgan offered. "We could visit Ferox and Plegia, too, or maybe even travel to Valm."

"I might just do that," Priam said, with a nod. "Thank you, Morgan."

* * *

Late that evening, they arrived at the town Soren had remembered. It was quite a bit larger than the farming village, and seemed to be more of a trading outpost than a true village. There were five taverns and inns, and when they stopped in the nearest tavern, they found it nearly packed to the brim with travelers. From the conversations they could overhear, it seemed traffic flowed in every direction through this town. Some were merchants, stopping by to trade with the local businesses, while others were simply passing through and needed a place to stay the night.

"You two stay here," Soren instructed, after they found an open table in the farthest corner of the room. It seemed most of the tavern's patrons preferred the rowdy atmosphere at the center of the crowds, where every table was taken. Seeing as they were trying to maintain a low profile, though, it was nothing to complain about.

"Where are you going?" Priam asked.

"I'm going to see if there's anyone heading for Nevassa with room for passengers," Soren replied. "But there's no need for all of us to go." He left without another word, and only a slight nod to acknowledge Morgan wishing him luck.

"Is he always like that?" Morgan said softly, as she watched Soren disappear into the crowd.

"Like what?" Priam asked absentmindedly, as he began perusing the menu a passing waitress deposited on the table.

"He seems so brusque sometimes. Especially with us. At least with strangers, he acts reasonably polite," Morgan observed. She wasn't too upset with it, having come to terms with Soren's emotionally aloof nature early in their journey, but it was still pretty unsettling.

"That's only to avoid attracting attention," Priam said, without lifting his eyes from the menu. "But yes, Uncle Soren has always been that way, as far as I can remember. He's always been detached from others, even the people close… well, closer, to him. I suppose it's a natural consequence of living such a long life."

"Detached. That's a good description for Soren," Morgan agreed. "I can see how life in Azure Pyre suits him now, actually. But what about you?"

"What about me?" Priam asked, looking up at last.

"You've spent most of your life in Azure Pyre, haven't you? But you seem pretty adventurous. And the first night we met, you seemed as eager to hear our stories as we were to hear yours," Morgan recalled. "Why haven't you set out to see the world on your own before now?"

"I've always wanted to," Priam admitted. "And for years, I've waited for the right opportunity. But still, I had my doubts. I had much to learn, still, in Azure Pyre."

Morgan frowned. Priam seemed to dedicate himself so wholly to becoming a capable warrior, so it was unlikely that he was speaking of aside from the art of combat. But at the same time, Priam had rightfully earned the respect of a village boasting many battle-hardened retired soldiers and mercenaries. "Like what?" Morgan finally asked. "You're one of the strongest warriors I know."

"Coming from you, that means quite a lot," Priam said, smiling. "But Uncle Soren is right: I have a long way to go."

"Soren's wrong," Morgan said flatly. "It's true that you aren't perfect, but that's because no one is ever truly perfect. You can't wait until you find perfection to move on."

In answer, Priam lifted Ragnell from his belt. "Ragnell is more than just an unbreakable sword, and more than just an ancient artifact," he began, as he laid the weapon reverently upon the table. "It is a testament to the strength and courage of my forefather. I seek more than a chance to see the world, Morgan. One day, I wish to prove myself worthy of the Radiant Hero's legacy."

"And you can do that the way you are now," Morgan insisted. "I bet you anything Ike wasn't perfect, either, no matter what Soren says, because becoming a hero isn't about being perfect. It's about fighting for what you think is right, even if you _know_ you aren't perfect."

"And in doing so, surpassing your own imperfections," Priam said thoughtfully. "I hope you're right, Morgan. I used to think that one day, when I was ready, I would seek the opportunity to prove myself. But after our meeting with Tantalus, I can't help but think that the opportunity has found me first. If it has, I doubt it cares whether or not I'm ready."

"It might have," Morgan said slowly, as she, too, reflected upon her own doubts regarding Tantalus. Again, she forced herself to put those doubts out of mind, and instead only smiled reassuringly. "But if it has, you'll be ready for it, no matter what Soren says."

"Right you are," Priam agreed readily, as his gaze dipped down to the menu once more. "Say, do you think we can finish a roasted suckling pig by ourselves?"

* * *

The tavern's cooking was surprisingly delicious, but Morgan didn't have too much of an appetite, and after finishing a fairly small portion, she glanced around the tavern. At first, she was looking for Soren, who had been gone for over half an hour now, but when she realized there was no way they would see Soren approaching through the thick crowd, she turned her attention to the tavern's other patrons instead. "You know, I don't think we've seen any Laguz yet," she said.

"Uncle Soren said that the Laguz and Beorc often kept their distance from one another in his time," Priam said between bites. "It wouldn't surprise me if the Laguz still preferred to keep to themselves."

"Or perhaps we just prefer the tavern down the street," a cheerful man said, as he abruptly dropped into one of the empty chairs by their table. "They serve traditional Gallian cooking there."

Morgan stared at the newcomer, startled, for the Laguz man had made no effort at all to conceal his heritage. His messy blond hair carried a hint of orange, and his feline ears were a bit longer than an ordinary humans, poking through his thick hair. He also seemed remarkably slender, and a bright orange tail protruded from his shorts. "You're a Laguz," she said in a hushed tone, clearly awed.

"Try not to talk his ears off. Laguz, particularly from the cat tribe, have far more sensitive hearing than the average Beorc," Soren explained, as he moved around the table and seated himself across from the Laguz. "This is Hunter. He owns a trade caravan that's heading to Nevassa tomorrow."

"That's right," Hunter said. "But I told your buddy that I'd like to meet the two of you, too, before we seal the deal. Don't want to spend the entire march with someone I can't get along with, you know?"

"March?" Priam echoed, surprised. "We're traveling on foot?"

"What? You don't think you can keep up?" Hunter said indignantly.

"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of trying to find a ride?" Morgan pointed out, as Soren sighed.

Hunter only laughed. "That it would. Don't worry; I was only messing with you two. I've got two business partners, and one is Beorc. He isn't too fond of long walks, either, so we've got a horse-drawn cart, too. More than enough room for the four of you."

"Whether he is fond of it or not, it's nearly two hundred miles to Nevassa from here," Soren reminded.

"Almost a week on foot for a typical Beorc," Hunter agreed. "But we'll make the trip in just under two days. That is, if you folks have no problems traveling with a pair of Laguz."

Morgan quickly shook her head. "Of course not!" she said.

"Though she'll probably pester you the entire way with questions," Soren warned.

"I'm Morgan. It's nice to meet you," Morgan said, ignoring the interruption.

"And I'm Priam," Priam added.

Hunter nodded. "Well, you folks seem alright with me."

"Do you often run into trouble with strangers because you're a Laguz?" Morgan asked curiously.

"Not so much," Hunter said with a shrug. "Beorc and Laguz get along pretty well these days, all things considered. At least, according to my grandfather's stories. But you'll always get someone here and there who feels… ah… a little uncomfortable. Feels kind of odd to have someone staring at you as if you were some kind of monster, you know?"

"That _does_ sound uncomfortable," Priam agreed.

As they spoke, Morgan bit her lip sheepishly, suddenly aware that she herself had been marveling at the Laguz's rather unusual appearance. "Sorry," she apologized quickly. "I've never met a Laguz before."

Hunter only laughed. "Don't worry. It happens more often than you'd imagine, out here in the countryside. Curiosity is only natural," he said reassuringly.

"Then our deal stands?" Soren asked firmly.

"Yes sir," Hunter said, hopping to his feet. Somehow, in even such a trivial motion, his movements seemed astonishingly fluid and effortless. "See you three tomorrow in the square. Be ready to leave by sunrise!" he instructed, before setting off, waving casually as he disappeared into the crowd.


	6. Chapter 3

**~ Chapter 3 ~**

They set out in fine spirits the next morning, and just as Hunter had promised, they reached Nevassa's western gate by the following afternoon. Morgan was almost disappointed when Daein's capital appeared on the horizon, for the ride was far more enjoyable than she imagined it to be.

For one, neither Hunter nor his two traveling companions asked any prying questions. Soren's honest, if not entirely complete, explanation was that the three of them had come from an isolated place where Laguz were infrequently seen. It was more or less what Hunter had expected to hear, anyways, and proved to be enough to forestall any suspicion. In fact, Hunter's Beorc friend, a cheery, muscular man who reminded Morgan of her fellow Shepherd, Vaike, took that as an excuse to share his many stories of his time in Gallia.

And then there were the Laguz themselves. Hunter and his Laguz friend looked so similar that they could have been twins, and both of them were possessed of remarkable agility, even in their human guises. Morgan found that she didn't quite have time to ask as many questions as she would've liked; both of the Laguz spent the better part of the day either transformed and frolicking ahead along the beaten path, building a lead, or walking along as humans while waiting for their companions to catch up.

It was a bit of a disappointment that neither of the Laguz spent much time near them, but Morgan didn't mind too much. Instead, she simply enjoyed the spectacle of the Laguz transformations. Though back in Ylisse, she had known several Manaketes, the Laguz transformations were completely different. With Manaketes, their dragon stones would call upon a swirl of light, magically shielding them as a cocoon would, before they emerged in their dragon forms. The Laguz seemed every bit as magical – their bodies quickly and gracefully stretched as long hairs sprouted from all over their bodies, appearing over their simple clothing, leaving both Hunter and his friend as large, orange-furred felines.

And though Hunter had seemed wary of traveling with someone unfamiliar with Laguz the night before, and didn't join in many of their Beorc companions' conversations throughout the day, Morgan had a feeling that the two Laguz enjoyed the attention anyways. The ever-cheerful Laguz often added some unnecessary acrobatics, as if trying to show-off, and both Laguz seemed to take great pleasure in waving at the cart's passengers when the cart passed them by, before transforming and sprinting past them again.

* * *

Morgan's suspicion was confirmed when they reached Nevassa, and she, Priam, and Soren climbed down from the cart. "Your payment," Soren said, as he handed a small pouch of coins to Hunter. He looked at the Laguz expectantly.

But Hunter didn't seem too overly concerned with counting his pay. "Thanks, buddy. It was our pleasure. How long are you folks planning to spend here in Nevassa?"

"We're not sure yet," Soren admitted. "Why?"

"Well, we're setting out the day after tomorrow, heading south for Nox. If you decide Nevassa isn't for you and want to head south for Nox, or even all the way south to Begnion, let me know, alright?" Hunter said. "See you around!"

"They were certainly friendly enough," Priam remarked, when the three of them said their farewells and set off for the castle. "Though he seemed awfully anxious to show off how different Laguz are from us Beorc."

"Of course he was. How else would you expect a young male to act in front of a female he found attractive?" Soren asked dryly. Morgan looked at him, startled. "Don't tell me you didn't notice," Soren added, upon seeing her reaction.

"I didn't," Morgan admitted as her cheeks flushed red. "Where are we going, by the way?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Castle Daein," Soren replied brusquely. "Where else would one find the queen?"

"Right. Of course," Morgan said, Soren's words leaving her even more flustered than before.

Noticing her discomfort, Priam clapped an arm around her shoulder in a reassuring manner. They set off soon after, following Soren in silence as they made their way down the city. They passed through a lively marketplace and several small stores. Morgan eyed the various goods presented in the store displays and market stalls with interest, but for the most part, they were common market goods similar to those that would be found in Ylisstol.

Soren, of course, didn't spare the vendors as much as a glance as he continued pressing forward, setting a brisk pace. Morgan and Priam had no choice but to follow, and before long, they were away from the crowd, and standing in a quieter town square.

A statue in the center of the deserted square caught all of their attention immediately. Even Soren stopped for a moment, and Morgan noticed that his lips seemed to grow thin upon seeing the memorial. Priam, on the other hand, strolled straight up to the memorial to read the plaque at its feet.

"So this is the Radiant Hero," Priam said softly, for the plaque confirmed his guess immediately.

"It's an adequate likeness," Soren conceded. When neither Priam nor Morgan seemed ready to leave, he continued on impatiently. "We should be going."

Morgan nodded and obediently followed as Soren continued down the road. But she stopped when she noticed that Priam was still standing before the statue. "Priam?"

Priam said nothing, though, and only drew his sword, holding it up and comparing it with the copy that the statue held. "It really is Ragnell," he muttered. Morgan smiled, remembering her first meeting with Priam, when Priam admitted that even he couldn't be entirely certain his sword was truly the one that had once belonged to the Radiant Hero.

"Of course," Soren said, apparently also overhearing Priam's quiet remark. "Now put it away before we start attracting attention. There will be enough of that when we reach the castle."

Morgan frowned. Soren's prediction had a slightly ominous ring to it, and she began wondering what Soren's plan really was, given his erratic behavior ever since they first set foot in Daein. "Are you sure this is wise?" she asked apprehensively. She had trusted in Soren's advice so far, but she also remembered Soren's reluctance to label Micaiah as a friend. They could very well be getting themselves in trouble with a beloved monarch, thousands of miles away from home. Morgan shuddered; it wasn't a pleasant thought.

But Soren seemed confident, as he always did. "Wiser than idling around hoping for the information we seek to fall into our laps," Soren said. "I expect there will be many willing to assist a descendant of the Radiant Hero, _if_ they believe he is who he says he is. But unfortunately, proving our identity to anyone may be difficult, save for those who I once knew."

It made sense, of course, but still, Morgan found herself strangely nervous. But the castle wasn't far, and sighing inwardly, she realized they had more or less committed to this course as soon as they chose to head towards Castle Daein.

As they approached the castle and ascended its front steps, a pair of guards stepped forward to confront them. Both of them wore black armor, with small strips of blood-red cloth visible underneath. The Daein insignia of a vaguely draconic black shape on a red banner could be seen encrusted in their pauldrons, and on the flags erect on the parapets above.

"State your business," the first soldier barked.

"We're here to see Queen Micaiah," Soren replied coolly.

"The queen is no longer receiving visitors," the second soldier said. "I am sorry, but you will have to return tomorrow." He sounded genuinely apologetic, and didn't seem at all bothered by the visitors who had come in hopes of an audience with the queen. From his tone, Morgan guessed that Queen Micaiah was usually quite willing to meet with her subjects.

"Our business will not wait. The queen will see us," Soren stated boldly. Privately, while Morgan agreed that Queen Micaiah would probably not miss an opportunity to speak with such an old acquaintance, she also wished Soren would take the time to be a little bit more polite. Soren's gruff manner was a bit unusual; the branded tactician was usually more tactful than this in dealing with strangers.

Stranger still, Morgan felt as if Soren's bluntness was intentional, and perhaps feigned. Maybe he was trying to make an impression, or maybe there was more to Daein politics that he hadn't warned them about. Then again, Morgan couldn't help but wonder if what Soren remembered of Daein politics from five centuries ago would even remain relevant.

Both the guards looked stunned by Soren's forwardness. "I'm afraid that's not possible," the first guard finally said, after a long and awkward pause.

"I suppose the queen isn't here, then?" Soren guessed, keeping his expression perfectly even.

"She is here," the second guard corrected. "But her audience hours are strictly maintained, and with good reason."

"Then the queen _will_ see us," Soren growled, a hint of impatience crawling into his voice. "Priam, show them your sword." Priam obediently drew his weapon.

Both guards suddenly looked uneasy, and one of them even made a subtle movement toward his own weapon. Neither seemed to recognize the weapon. "Are you threatening us?" the first guard demanded.

"Look again," Soren demanded impatiently. "The boy's weapon is none other than Ragnell. Even if you do not recognize it, I surely hope you recognize the name."

The guards ignored his request, and instead stared at him in disbelief. Then the second guard rolled his eyes. "Oh of course! How silly of us not to realize. Ragnell, the blade of the Radiant Hero that was lost _over five centuries ago_. If that's the case, why don't you just waltz on in?" he said sarcastically.

"We will, thank you," Soren said, satisfied. He knew the guard meant no such thing, though, and slipped a hand close to his tome as he stepped forward.

The surprised guards moved to block the entrance, lifting their lances. Perhaps Soren thought they would try to attack him, or perhaps Soren just felt like tossing the two unfortunate guards around. Either way, the two guards were flung away by a sudden burst of wind. The two guards slammed into the side of the doorway which they were guarding before crumpling to the floor.

Morgan and Priam exchanged shocked glances as Soren continued through the now unguarded doorway without another word.

"Umm… I'm not sure attacking your friend's guards is a good idea," Morgan said, as they entered the castle's main hall.

"She's not a friend. She's an acquaintance, at best," Soren reminded. "We were enemies, once," he added nonchalantly.

Morgan only sighed, wishing Soren had not omitted that particular detail earlier. She looked around uneasily as other soldiers caught on to the intrusion and began tagging along. "Halt!" one guard called out, though his voice quivered with fear.

When Soren ignored him, and Morgan and Priam simply followed his lead, the guards looked at a complete loss. Instead, the three intruders ended up leading a small parade of confused and worried guards all the way to the throne room.

At the far end of the throne room, there was a beautiful woman sitting in a simple, yet elegant throne. She looked no older than Morgan was herself, and Morgan let out a little gasp upon seeing her. Though she knew Micaiah was supposed to be branded, and thus would still look like a young woman, seeing the woman's breathtaking beauty in the flesh was unsettling. It was the same way it was with Soren – she would never have imagined that the woman sitting before them had lived for over five centuries.

Due to her youthful appearance, though, Micaiah certainly didn't look the part of an ancient and wise authority figure. She wore a finely cut dress of flowing white and red silks, and her long silver hair was combed neatly. All in all, she looked more like a typical young noblewoman.

Still, the guards all bowed deferentially upon seeing her, and a few of them murmured apologies for not being able to stop the intruder. Micaiah didn't seem alarmed, and made a calm, soothing gesture with her hands, setting them at ease. Then she looked at Soren curiously, apparently not recognizing him.

"Maiden of Dawn," Soren greeted, when it became clear she was waiting for him to speak first.

"No one has referred to me by that title in centuries," she said, surprised. "Might I ask your name?" Her curious expression only intensified.

"Have you truly forgotten me?" Soren asked dryly. "I must admit, I am disappointed. Ike often prattled on about how the bonds we forged in battle would be eternal."

Morgan flinched, thinking Soren sounded far more condescending than necessary. But Micaiah had recognized Soren at last, and was too shocked to hear the less-than-subtle undertones of his remark. "Soren? Is that really you?"

"Ah. So you do remember me. How flattering," Soren said, impassively. "Perhaps you would be willing to share a few stories with an old companion, then."

"Of… of course," Micaiah stammered. Many of her guards seemed shocked, for it was the first time any of them could remember seeing the queen so unsettled. She glanced at Morgan, and then at Priam, her eyes widening when she saw the sword hanging from Priam's belt.

Soren lips quirked into a rare smile. "Thank you," he said, dipping into a slight bow, as Micaiah signaled for her guards to leave them.

* * *

"It's good to see you again, Soren," Micaiah began, honestly, once her guards had left.

"Is it?" Soren quipped.

Micaiah stared at him, unsure of his meaning. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Soren shook his head somberly. "When I left, it was because I had no place left for me here in Tellius. That has not changed, Maiden of Dawn."

"Just call me Micaiah," Micaiah insisted. "And you could have found a place anywhere you wanted. Beorc and Laguz alike have come a long way in the past few centuries, in no small part because of our efforts. You were a part of that evolution, Soren."

"I found my place," Soren assured softly.

Morgan frowned. Something about Soren's tone of quiet resignation bothered her, and she felt as if that simple statement was much deeper than it seemed. The queen's somber expression of deep sympathy didn't escape her notice, either, but Soren was quick to press on before either Morgan or Micaiah could interrupt.

"But enough about me," Soren continued. "I am here on behalf of my two companions. With me are Priam and Morgan," he introduced, pointing to each of the two in turn.

"It's nice to meet you," Micaiah said, nodding deferentially at each of them in turn. Her gaze returned to Priam a moment later, eyeing his sword again.

"Yes. Priam is the descendant of Ike, eighteen generations removed," Soren said, answering the queen's unspoken question. "But it is his friend's concerns that have brought us here today. Morgan seeks another friend of hers, from the same distant land that she, Priam, and I have traveled here from. We believe him to be here in Tellius."

"And you were hoping that I would be able to help you find him," Micaiah guessed. She turned to Morgan with a kind smile. "Tell me about your friend, Morgan."

For some reason, with Micaiah's attention focused on her, Morgan suddenly felt unnaturally shy. Something about Micaiah was just unnerving. It reminded Morgan vaguely of her first meeting with Soren, and she wondered if it was perhaps just a natural consequence of being in the presence of someone so old and wise. "Umm… his name is Owain. He's less than a year younger than I am, has brown hair… and he tends to talk strangely, as if he was acting out a part in a play," she said.

Micaiah smiled faintly. "That's not a lot to go on," she observed.

"I know," Morgan admitted. "He's also a decent swordsman, if that helps."

"His most distinguishing characteristic is his origin," Soren interrupted. "Queen Micaiah, have you heard any rumors of a young man who claims to be from a foreign land?"

"I'm afraid not," Micaiah said, shaking her head. "And really, Soren, do you have to be so formal?"

"Yes," Soren said bluntly. Micaiah and Morgan both sighed. Priam, on the other hand, seemed to be trying his best to stifle a laugh.

Morgan supposed it was better than the deliberately provocative remarks he had made earlier, but judging by the lack of surprise in Micaiah's tone, it seemed as if this was very much the same Soren that the queen once knew. "Queen Micaiah, if you hear any rumors of such a person, would you please let us know? And if you happen to come across him, will you please let him know that we are searching for him?" she requested politely.

"Of course," Micaiah agreed at once. "Do you intend to search for him yourselves in the meantime?"

"We do," Soren replied, speaking before Morgan could. "And I believe we know how best to begin our search, too." At his words, Morgan stole a nervous look at Priam, only to find the same uneasiness reflected on his face.

"Uncle, surely you can't mean…" Priam began to interrupt.

"But there is one more favor I'd ask," Soren continued, giving no indication that he had heard Priam at all. "Do you have anything that might protect us from magical assault? During our journey here to Nevassa, we've learned of the troubles Tellius is facing lately, and the involvement of the spirit charmers."

Micaiah nodded slowly. "We may have some equipment that may be useful. Some of the robes in our armory are specifically enchanted to resist magical attacks."

"Specifically, I would like something that protects one against long ranged magic," Soren added. "In case any would threaten us from afar."

"Wouldn't the robes protect us from long-ranged magic as well as short-ranged?" Priam asked, sounding clearly unhappy at the prospect of wearing a robe instead of his armor.

Soren said nothing, and only looked at Micaiah meaningfully.

"Not necessarily," Micaiah finally said, after a moment's silence. "Although I think we might be able to find something that will suit your needs. Would you mind staying the night here in Castle Daein? You are welcome to dine with us, and I will have rooms prepared for the three of you."

"Thank you, Queen Micaiah," Soren said, with a curt nod.

As a handful of the castle's servants returned to lead them out and show them around the castle, Morgan shot a questioning glance at Soren. The meeting had seemed strangely mechanical, even knowing Soren's nature as she did. Soren met her gaze for a brief second, but gave no indication of his thoughts.

Morgan only sighed, hoping that Soren wouldn't keep her in the dark forever.

* * *

A series of loud knocks rang out. Morgan came awake instantly, startled. She glanced out the window and immediately noticed it was still dark outside.

"Lady Morgan?" an unfamiliar voice called.

"Who is it?" Morgan called back blearily.

"I apologize for the late hour, but the queen would like to see you."

"One moment," Morgan said. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but Morgan climbed out of bed anyways and quickly dressed. She glanced back at the warm bed and soft quilts longingly before reaching for the door.

A young man was waiting patiently in the hall. Or perhaps not so young, Morgan realized, when she noticed that his medium length hair was precisely the same shade of silver as Micaiah's, and his eyes were the same shade of light brown. He wore a fine red coat with a raised collar and tanned trousers, and a long silver cloak. He also wore a pair of thick leather gloves, matching his fine leather boots. "Prince Lionel," he said, introducing himself and extending a hand.

"Morgan," Morgan replied, accepting the offered handshake.

"Follow me, please," Lionel said politely, as he led the way down the hallway.

"Are we headed to the throne room?" Morgan asked.

Lionel shook his head. "The armory."

"Oh!" Morgan exclaimed, remembering Soren's request from earlier. But something still didn't add up. "Couldn't this have waited until morning?"

"Our armory hosts some rather unusual pieces of equipment," Lionel explained offhandedly. "It's best if we keep such matters private. You'll understand soon enough. I woke up Soren, first, who promised to rouse Priam. They should both be there already."

"Alright," Morgan agreed.

They reached the armory a few minutes later. The first thing that stood out to Morgan was the door – it carried a heavier lock of a different design, and the door itself looked thicker and heavier than the other doors in Castle Daein. It was made of metal instead of wood, and seemed to be covered in strange inscriptions of undecipherable runes. The runes glowed as Lionel approached the door.

"There's only two keys to this door. My mother has the other one," Lionel explained, as he lifted an ornate key from his pocket. He slid it into the lock and turned it calmly. The door clicked loudly as it was unlocked, and the runes seemed to disappear. Lionel tugged the door open, with great effort, so it seemed. "After you."

* * *

"Hello, Morgan," Micaiah greeted warmly, as Morgan stepped into the armory. Lionel stepped inside, too, and carefully closed the door behind him.

"Hello," Morgan replied, as she looked around the armory. It was larger than she had expected, with more than four times as much space as the armory in Castle Ylisse. Then again, Castle Ylisse's armory was rather small to begin with, and only saw use after Lucina decided to keep the Shepherds' equipment there. Her gaze settled on Soren, who was holding a strange looking shield. "Soren, what's that?" Morgan asked curiously.

"A shield that dampens magic targeted at the surrounding area. I can't be sure that it's effective, but it's probably the best we could have hoped for," Soren explained, shrugging.

"Are you going to explain what's really going on?" Morgan asked, now feeling rather annoyed. Soren had grown increasingly cryptic ever since landing in Daein, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"I was wondering the same thing myself," Micaiah murmured, though she didn't look too irate.

"You have been acting a bit strangely of late, Uncle," Priam agreed.

Soren nodded. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure if we were being watched. Incidentally, I still can't be certain that we are free of eavesdroppers, but with this shield, and given the late hour, at least there's a chance we can have a truly private conversation."

"Watched?" Priam asked, and he frowned, for he hadn't noticed any observers in the vicinity.

"By who?" Micaiah asked, sounding concerned.

Soren glanced at Morgan expectantly, hinting that she should know the answer already. She racked her mind furiously for several seconds before she understood. "Tantalus," she realized. "He said he was using magic to search and could possibly use it to help us." Suddenly, she felt incredibly foolish.

"Precisely," Soren said, with a nod of approval. "A spirit pact usually augments magical prowess. I am not familiar with any magic that can spy on others from afar, save for you and your father's experimental magic in Ylisse, but it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Which is why you didn't want to talk about Tantalus and his offer to us before," Morgan reasoned. She glanced at Priam, who was now looking around the room uncomfortably, as if he expected someone to be leering at them from one of the armory's corners.

"Who is Tantalus?" Micaiah asked, now more confused than ever.

"I was hoping you could tell us," Soren said. "We met a man on our way here who claims he used to work alongside a group of spirit charmers who call themselves the 'Redeemers'. Either they betrayed him, or he betrayed them, for now he claims to be working against them. He asked us to help him seek out the 'essence' of a 'dire eidolon'."

Micaiah and Lionel both paled upon the mention of the Redeemers.

"Judging by your expressions, you _have_ heard of these Redeemers," Soren added dryly.

"Where did you meet this man?" Micaiah asked urgently.

"One of the nameless, small Daein ports on the coast of the Orribes Sea. He has probably left by now," Soren said with a shrug.

"He offered to help us in our search in exchange for our help with _his_ search, and told us to seek him out in the Snowflake Forest if we were interested," Morgan added.

"But first, Micaiah, can you tell us more about the Redeemers?" Soren asked. "There's been plenty of whispers in the few towns we've been in, but nothing definitive."

Micaiah frowned. "I'm afraid that's because not much is known about them. Have you heard of the eidolons, Soren?"

Soren nodded. "I read about them once, centuries ago, but they were supposed to be extremely rare. Sighted only once every decade or two. That doesn't seem to be consistent with the port being attacked by nearly two score of eidolons," he said.

"They were supposed to be extremely rare, yes," Micaiah confirmed. "Until about two decades ago, I only ever seen a single eidolon myself. You would hear about one every few years, perhaps. They were a nuisance and a minor threat, akin to wild animals, but nothing to really be feared."

"Until the Redeemers came along," Soren guessed.

"We think so," Micaiah said tiredly. "Though we didn't know about the Redeemers at first. One day, it seemed eidolons began appearing more often. Every couple months, in larger and larger groups, all over Tellius. Eidolons are manifestations of the same spirits that forge pacts with Beorc to make them into spirit charmers. Some of the old texts imply that the spirit charmers can actually summon eidolons, so we have always suspected that a spirit charmer, or perhaps a group of spirit charmers, are responsible for the recent eidolon outbreaks."

"But we never really confirmed it until two years ago, when the Redeemers revealed themselves in Port Toha," Lionel explained. "They were able to summon a dire eidolon, and somehow strengthen it further."

"We believe they intended to control it," Micaiah said. "But if that was their attempt, their attempts were futile. Maelstrom disappeared into the sea after annihilating the port entirely. The Redeemers have kept a low profile since, but despite their best efforts, they've left enough of a trail for us to know that they have been more activate of late."

Soren grimaced. "And Maelstrom?"

"We don't know," Micaiah admitted uncomfortably. "For a month or two, it was sighted every now and then off the coast. A few unfortunate fishing and merchant vessels went missing. After that, the sightings stopped entirely."

"What is Maelstrom like?" Morgan asked, fearing the answer.

"A gigantic whale like creature, with a strange, glossy black material for flesh, unlike any material we are familiar with. Its head is almost skull-like, and its eyes appear as glowing golden flames," Lionel described.

"And it can summon lightning storms?" Morgan guessed. Both Micaiah and Lionel stared at her, wonderingly.

"Then it was indeed Maelstrom," Soren said, nodding with understanding. "Micaiah, Maelstrom found its way to Ylisse about a year ago. Morgan and her friends were able to drive it off."

"It's why we're here," Morgan explained. "Owain was afraid that Maelstrom would return one day, and set off on his own to learn more about it."

Micaiah looked as if she were struggling for the appropriate words, and Morgan could see the regret in her eyes. But it was hardly her fault, and it seemed they had more pressing matters at hand.

"Queen Micaiah, can you tell us more about the dire eidolons? About Extinction? Tantalus told us that dire eidolons leave behind some sort of essence when they're defeated, and the essence is used to bring them back into the world," Morgan urged.

"We don't know much about the dire eidolons, either," Micaiah admitted. "Only three dire eidolons are known to history. Maelstrom and Extinction were both supposedly defeated in the century following the Great Flood. Calamity awakened two centuries before our battle with Ashera, and was defeated somewhere off the coast of Gallia. But Extinction managed to return to our world about two hundred years ago, in eastern Crimea. Until the eidolons surfaced everywhere two decades ago, Extinction was the only eidolon I had ever seen."

"What happened to Extinction?" Soren asked.

"It cut a path south, destroying dozens of smaller villages, until it reached Serenes Forest. Empress Sanaki ceded Serenes Forest back to the heron tribe right after the War of the Goddess, but thankfully, the surviving herons chose to make their new home in Phoenicis instead. They were safely out of harm's way when Extinction ravaged the northern part of the forest," Micaiah replied. "It then turned and began its march into Daein territory."

"Begnion sent help, as did Phoenicis. Together, we were able to chase the eidolon away from Daein. We pursued it all the way back to the Snowflake Forest at the Daein-Crimea border, where it first surfaced," Lionel added. "Hawk King Tibarn led the final battle against Extinction, destroying it and banishing it from our world once more."

"But at a great price," Micaiah said, closing her eyes. "Many of the Beorc soldiers were killed in our earlier battles. Most of Begnion's Holy Guard had fallen, and the Laguz alone were able to pursue Extinction. Many Laguz died in that final battle… including Naesala and Leanne."

"Naesala… and Leanne?" Soren echoed hollowly. "How? I thought Naesala would have avoided the battle at any cost. And herons do not fight. Why would Leanne have been there?"

Micaiah's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sadly. "Naesala was always a more noble man than he himself would admit. He joined the battle willingly, at his king's side. And according to Tibarn, Leanne refused to leave Naesala's side in the end."

"Naesala and Leanne?" Morgan asked. Both names sounded vaguely familiar to her.

"Naesala was the former raven king, who stepped down and allowed his rival, Tibarn, to become king of the united bird tribes after our battle against Ashera," Soren explained. "Leanne was one of the last survivors of the heron tribe. As Ike and I were leaving Tellius, we heard rumors that she had married Naesala."

"They were married within a few months of our victory," Micaiah confirmed. "Her daughter, Belle, and her brother, Reyson, are the last of the heron tribe now."

"What of her other brother, Rafiel? And King Lorazieh?" Soren asked.

Micaiah's expression darkened slightly. "Not long after reuniting with his family, Rafiel decided to return to Hatari. A messenger from Queen Nailah arrived in Daein less than a decade later. It seems the physical trials he suffered did more than strip him of his ability to fly. He supposedly fell ill only a few months after returning to Hatari, and passed away shortly after. King Lorazieh, too, never truly regained his health, and passed away not long after his granddaughter was born." Suddenly, another thought occurred to her, and she smiled. "Actually, there _is_ one more surviving heron. Though of course, his ability to transform was stripped away centuries before either you or I were born."

Soren's eyes widened as he realized who Micaiah must have been referring to. "Lehran still lives?" he asked incredulously.

"Lehran returned to Serenes, and like King Lorazieh, was healed by the songs of the herons. He even regained his wings," Micaiah explained. "He then disappeared for a few decades, though he returned to Begnion near the end of Empress Sanaki's life. After her passing, he rejoined the surviving herons in Phoenicis, where he still lives today."

"I see," Soren said thoughtfully. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he shook his head. "Micaiah, how has the rest of Tellius responded to the emergence of these 'Redeemers'?"

"They… haven't," Micaiah said hesitantly. "After Port Toha fell and the eidolon raids became rampant, King Kurthnaga reached out to the rulers of each kingdom of Tellius, both Beorc and Laguz. He was hoping to investigate the grim rumors. I agreed, of course, as did King Strife of Phoenicis. But Gallia's former king fell ill and passed unexpectedly only months before the incident at Port Toha, leaving a rather unusual heir. Gallia's new queen was in the midst of establishing her authority and maintaining her kingdom's stability. Similarly, Crimea was doing their best to help their Laguz neighbors. Neither Gallia nor Crimea was willing to commit more than a few token resources."

"What about Begnion?" Soren asked. "Begnion was by far the strongest and wealthiest of the three Beorc kingdoms when Ike and I left Tellius."

"Begnion remains as stalwart as ever," Lionel answered. "But they are still ruled by a senate as well as their emperor. While Emperor Yashiro does have the right to make a unilateral decision, excluding his senators could have rendered his kingdom politically stable. He chose to bring decision before his senate instead."

"But Begnion's senate remains frustratingly bureaucratic," Micaiah said sadly. "After over a month of deliberation, they still had yet to make a decision. Kurthnaga then disappeared altogether, putting an end to the discussion."

"Disappeared?" Morgan asked curiously.

"At first, we feared something had happened to him. When we spoke to his people, though, it seemed they were unconcerned, though they professed no knowledge of King Goldoa's whereabouts," Lionel said.

"And you believe them?" Soren asked dryly.

"Of course not," Micaiah said with a faint smile. "Though Goldoa has opened its borders to the rest of Tellius, they still remain fairly isolated. My guess is that some of the Goldoans we spoke to, at least, know exactly where their king is and why he has disappeared."

"So that's where we stand. Tellius has been… paralyzed. Maelstrom is missing entirely, after wreaking havoc in both Tellius and Ylisse. Extinction ended the lives of thousands, and fought to the bitter end, leaving deep, lingering wounds. Now, with countless of eidolons running free, Tantalus intends to fight fire with fire, so to speak," Soren summarized grimly.

"Uncle, we can't allow Tantalus to summon Extinction. Even if we _could_ trust him, there's no guarantee he could actually control it. We could very well be releasing another horror like Maelstrom into our world," Priam said, aghast.

"I don't disagree," Soren said softly. "But we cannot so easily forget our own reasons for coming here," he added, turning to Morgan.

"Are you saying we can simply ignore all of this?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"We certainly can," Soren replied, sounding almost flippant. "Tellius's troubles will only be our troubles if we welcome them as our own."

Micaiah nodded. "Though Tellius hasn't remained entirely peaceful, our people have lived in relative harmony for many centuries. We can face and surpass our challenges together." As she spoke, though, she suddenly looked uncertain. "Still…" she said, her thought trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

"What is it?" Morgan urged.

"Ever since King Kurthnaga disappeared, relations between the kingdoms of Tellius have become strained," Micaiah admitted. "Some of Daein's citizens have begun to suspect that Phoenicis may be involved in the Redeemers. I'm not certain where the rumors first emerged, but they are difficult to quell."

"And because of the baseless, whispered accusations, Phoenicis has begun to mistrust Daein, too," Lionel added. "In the absence of any real information, Begnion is lost in its bureaucratic squabbles. Emperor Yashiro is understandably reluctant to push his senators until an appropriate course of action has been determined. Given Queen Gallia's young age and recent rise to power, both Crimea and Gallia would rather pretend, for the sake of stability in their kingdoms, that the Redeemers aren't a threat at all."

"Which is why we are having this conversation," Soren said, nodding. "While our chance encounter with Tantalus may prove to be a fortunate opportunity, we do have our own reasons for being here."

"You're willing to turn your back on these people? On _your_ people?" Priam demanded angrily.

"We came here to help Morgan with her quest," Soren reminded. "The decision is rests with her."

"Then we'll help them, however we can," Morgan decided immediately, without even the slightest trace of hesitation.

"You would put your search for your friend on hold, and put your own life in danger on Tellius's behalf?" Soren asked, though he kept his tone neutral.

Morgan nodded. "I'll find Owain sooner or later, anyways. And I can take care of myself in the meantime." Her optimism seemed to fade slightly. "But I won't ask you or Priam to follow me," she added. "I don't think it's right for me to make that choice for the two of you."

"Fair enough," Priam agreed. "Allow me to make the same choice for myself, then. Morgan, whether we are searching for your friend or helping Tellius with the eidolons and the Redeemers, I will stand and fight by your side." He then turned to Soren. "And you, Uncle?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"There comes a point in life where you no longer fear death," Soren replied calmly. "Though I would sooner not stand on the sidelines, watching the two of you invite it alone."

Morgan smiled knowingly. "Thank you," she said, before turning to Micaiah. "So where do we begin?"

Again, it was Soren who spoke first.

"Simple. We find Tantalus, and we offer to help him in exchange for his help in finding Owain."


	7. Chapter 4

**~ Chapter 4 ~**

Morgan blinked, wondering if perhaps she had misheard Soren. Soren only returned her stunned look with his ever calm and unwavering gaze, and when she was finally convinced that she had not misheard him, after all, she began racking her mind furiously in hopes of making some sense out of Soren's bizarre words.

"Isn't that what we just agreed _can't_ happen?" Priam asked, sounding just as confused as Morgan was. He glanced at Morgan, who was still thinking intently, then at Micaiah and Lionel, both of who looked equally lost.

"We agreed that we cannot allow Extinction to be resurrected, yes," Soren confirmed, sounding a bit impatient.

"But stopping Tantalus isn't enough," Morgan slowly realized. "Because the dire eidolon's essence that Tantalus is looking for will still be out there. Someone else, maybe the Redeemers that he claims to be working against, could find it. We have to find the eidolon's essence first and keep it from falling into the wrong hands, but we don't even know what it looks like, let alone how to find it. Our only choice is to pretend to help Tantalus and let him lead us to it."

"Precisely," Soren confirmed, with a brief nod.

"You expected this," Morgan accused. "You already suspected that Tantalus was more dangerous than he seemed. You knew that if your guess was right, I would want to help stop him. That's why you made us keep quiet about it all the way here, and even hinted that we might accept his help, after all."

"To be fair, I wasn't absolutely certain about any of it until we spoke to Micaiah," Soren admitted. "But even so, until a decision is made, it's always…"

"Best to keep one's options open," Morgan recited, remembering one of Soren's frequent sayings during their games of Conquest. Still, she couldn't keep the look of admiration from her face.

"Was your surliness this morning part of your disguise, then?" Micaiah asked, smiling faintly.

"No, that was just Soren being Soren," Morgan answered, with a slight smirk. At her words, Priam chuckled softly.

Soren rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the younger tactician. "It seemed prudent, at the time," he said. "If Tantalus is indeed spying on us, it's better if we give him the impression that Daein and I aren't on perfectly friendly terms." He turned to the shield thoughtfully. "Then again, for all we know, Tantalus was bluffing about his magical prowess, and all of our caution was pointless. Or perhaps his magic is unaffected by this shield and he's watching us this very minute," Soren mused.

Morgan shrugged. "You did the best you could," she reassured, as much for Priam's sake as for Soren's, for Priam had once again begun surveying the room nervously.

"We'll see how it plays out," Soren agreed. "Give yourself some credit, Morgan. You figured everything out pretty quickly."

"Umm… are you okay, Soren?" Morgan asked, sounding worried. As strange as Soren had been acting of late, it was even weirder hearing him offering compliments for the unremarkable feat of barely managing to keep up with him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Soren asked.

"Never mind," Morgan said quickly. "So, our plan is to go to the Snowflake Forest and let Tantalus find us, then?"

"That is my suggestion, yes. Stay with him and work with him long enough to learn more about how he plans to summon Extinction. After that, we can find try to find a way to seize Extinction's essence for ourselves, or maybe destroy it outright," Soren said. "Now that I think about it, we might just come across your friend this way, too, Morgan. If he is here in Tellius, then he has almost certainly discovered the eidolons, and heard the same rumors regarding the Redeemers."

"Which means we might cross paths with him while we're pretending to help Tantalus, if we're lucky," Morgan said thoughtfully.

Soren nodded and turned to Micaiah. "Micaiah, we may need some additional equipment. We came prepared for the common hazards of the open road, not for battle against spirit charmers. If we agree to work alongside Tantalus, I am almost certain we will encounter the Redeemers and their eidolons again before this is through."

"Of course," Micaiah readily agreed. "You're welcome to take whatever you need."

"Can we bring the shield with us?" Priam asked, glancing at the shield that was supposed to shield them from Tantalus's prying eyes.

"We can't," Morgan interrupted. "We don't even really know if the shield works or not. That's why we're having this meeting at night, too. Even if the shield isn't helping, there's a chance Tantalus might miss us having this conversation altogether. But if we bring the shield with us, and Tantalus recognizes its purpose, he'll immediately know that we're trying to hide something from him."

"You're right," Micaiah said. "But I'm sure there's other equipment here that could be useful to you. This isn't our regular armory. We have a true armory down in the barracks, where the equipment for our soldiers are kept. This is where we keep Daein's more valuable treasures."

"I noticed. The security measures do seem a bit extreme for a regular armory. And Urvan wouldn't be lying in the armory along with common steel armor and weapons, would it?" Soren asked, jabbing a finger at a beautiful but dusty axe hanging from a weapons rack on the wall.

Micaiah smiled. "Jill kept it by her side in Talrega for many years, but when she decided she had no further need for it, she had it sent back to me for safekeeping. It's been here in Nevassa ever since."

"Urvan…" Morgan muttered, looking at the weapon. "That's the axe that once belonged to Ike's father?"

"To Commander Greil, yes," Soren said. "The weapon was blessed by Yune, and like Ragnell, has become indestructible. But it's of little use to us."

"Unless you've decided to branch out and try using an axe that's more than half your weight," Priam said teasingly.

"I'm not _that_ small!" Morgan protested weakly, though she glanced at the large axe again and realized that Priam's joke was uncomfortably close to the truth. "But you're right, I think. This probably isn't a good time for me to try to learn how to use an axe."

"You wear the robes of a mage," Micaiah noted. "We have several tomes that you might find useful."

"Over on that shelf," Lionel said, pointing toward a shelf on the far side of the room.

"I also might have some new robes for you," Micaiah added, as she selected and began searching through a particular shelf laden with several carefully wrapped parcels.

The first thing Morgan noticed when she approached the shelf was that the tomes here in Tellius seemed slightly larger, and the cloth was a little bit different. She recognized the runes, though, and soon realized that the spells themselves were the same. "These are the same as the fire tome I'm already carrying," Morgan said. "And I have more back on the _Rainfell_."

Soren shrugged. "You came prepared then."

"Maybe you should bring a spare wind tome," Morgan suggested. "You only ever seem to use wind magic, but you only brought one tome with you."

Soren smiled faintly, as he held up his own tome beside one of the ones on the shelf. "Notice anything?"

"They're the same," Morgan said with a shrug. Her eyes widened a moment later. "How could they be the same? You left Tellius hundreds of years ago! Did you scribe your own tomes and design them the same way?"

Soren shook his head. "Yune blessed each of our weapons before allowing us to face Ashera. This tome carries the same blessing. Its magic will never run out," he explained.

"Wow… that's pretty handy," Morgan said, looking at the tome excitedly. "Do you think we could replicate that with other weapons, too?"

"Probably not without divine intervention," Soren said casually. "I suppose we don't need any of these tomes, then?"

"I guess not," Morgan said, crestfallen. But as she turned away, another shelf of tomes that she hadn't noticed earlier caught her attention. "Wait, what kind of tomes are these?" she asked.

"Light magic," Leonel answered, as he approached them. "These are Mother's personal tomes."

"You're welcome to use them if you'd like," Micaiah added, as she rejoined them, carrying one of the parcels from the shelf. "Light magic is allegedly more effective against otherworldly creatures than conventional anima magic."

"Wow, light magic really does exist," Morgan murmured. "I've only ever read about it in books. It's too bad we didn't learn about it earlier; it might have come in handy against the risen." Her curiosity piqued, she gently lifted one of the tomes from the shelf. For the most part, it looked like a regular spell tome. Even the runes seemed to be similar. "How do they work?"

"The same way as anima magic," Soren replied. "Only, not only does it draw upon your innate magical prowess, light magic is said to draw on your conviction as well."

"Conviction?" Morgan echoed, unsure of what Soren meant.

"The strength of your beliefs, whatever they might be," Micaiah said. "Just as doubt may unsteady a warrior's sword hand, a weakened will also undermines one's ability to wield light magic. That's why light magic is often favored by priests and priestesses characterized by unwavering faith and loyalty."

"Have you ever used light magic?" Morgan asked Soren curiously. Soren's only reply was a bark of derisive laughter. "I guess not," Morgan said, answering her own question with a broad grin, as she took another look at the tome in her hands.

"Take them with you," Micaiah offered. "If you can wield them, they will undoubtedly prove valuable in your journey." As Morgan nodded gratefully, and collected two of the tomes, Micaiah turned to Priam and offered him a small talisman. "This is for you, Priam. It will help shield you from magical attacks."

"Really?" Priam said, sounding intrigued. "Thank you, Queen Micaiah."

"And this, Morgan, is for you. It should fit you nicely," Micaiah said, as she passed the parcel to Morgan.

Morgan carefully unwrapped the parcel and found a set of gorgeous, white, gold-trimmed robes within.

Lionel gasped when he saw the robe. "Mother! Are you sure?" he asked.

"I am," Micaiah said firmly, with a nod. "I think it should be about your size, Morgan," she added. "Why don't you try it on?"

Morgan was about to do as she asked when she hesitated, noticing the odd way Lionel was eyeing the robe. "Is there something you're not telling me about this robe?" she asked.

Micaiah laughed lightly. "It was made for me, actually, but I've never worn it myself. It bears a number of enchantments, including one that makes it more resistant to physical weapons than a normal robe would be. It also protects its wearer from magic, similar to the talisman which I gave Priam."

"It's more potent than the talisman," Lionel added. "The robe is one of Daein's national treasures, carrying the blessing of Ashunera herself."

"Ashunera?" Soren echoed, sounding surprised.

"We believe so," Micaiah said, although she didn't sound completely certain. "Yune disappeared after breaking the curse Ashera had placed upon Tellius. For decades, I tried to speak to her, or to Ashera, but it seemed I could hear the goddess's voice no longer. We even built a temple dedicated to Ashunera, wondering if, perhaps, Yune and Ashera had been truly reunited. Even there, the goddesses remained silent."

"Then where did you get this robe?" Soren asked curiously, glancing at Morgan, who was still staring at the marvelous garment.

"Not everyone in Daein was immediately ready to accept our new peace with the Laguz," Micaiah replied. "About three centuries ago, a band of Laguz outlaws began raiding the small villages of Daein's countryside. Bandits have been a ubiquitous problem for centuries, but as they were Laguz…"

"Those who still secretly despise the Laguz were quick to use it as an excuse," Soren understood, frowning slightly at the thought.

"Thankfully, most of Daein's citizens were wiser, and accepted that the Laguz bandits were hardly representative of Laguz as a whole, much as Beorc bandits are outlaws in our own society. But there were many who were willingly blinded by their hatred. Daein was nearly split into two, and engulfed in a civil war," Micaiah said somberly. "Our allies, both Beorc and Laguz kingdoms alike, offered to intercede, but I felt it was more important for my people to prove our own devotion to peace. We willingly stood alone against our own people, but as the war grew bloodier, I visited the temple of Ashunera once again, hoping the goddess would speak to me and affirm our course. Instead, I found three gemstones, brimming with divine energy."

"How did you know it was divine?" Morgan asked curiously.

"I imagine she'd know, having hosted half of the goddess's spirit in her own body for some time," Soren pointed out.

Micaiah nodded. "I suppose it was the only message Ashunera was capable of leaving for us. Perhaps she has yet to fully recover. Ashunera's Gifts, as we have named them, can convey their blessing upon another object. Following the Daein Civil War, the priests and priestesses of Ashunera's temple commissioned a new robe for me, and blessed it with one of the gifts."

Morgan looked down upon the robe in awe. "Are you sure I can have this?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"I'm sure," Micaiah answered with a kind smile.

Morgan only hesitated for a moment longer, before she unfolded the robe and carefully pulled it over her own robe. It was slightly larger, allowing her to slide it on without much trouble, and it fit her remarkably well.

"Very nice," Micaiah complimented kindly.

"It looks lovely," Priam agreed.

"Although it doesn't seem to sit quite right over another robe," Soren said critically.

Typical, Morgan thought. She carefully pulled off the robe and gently folded it once more. "I'll change before we leave tomorrow. Thank you, Queen Micaiah," she said gratefully.

"Is there anything else you need?" Micaiah asked, glancing at each of the three in turn.

"Do you have any staves?" Morgan asked. "I only brought an old healing staff, which was more or less depleted after the eidolon attack. And I think Soren should be able to use staves, too."

"I can," Soren confirmed with a nod.

"This way," Micaiah said, gesturing down one of the aisles.

* * *

Morgan's eyes lit up immediately upon seeing the weapon racks laden with staves. She glanced at Micaiah questioningly, as if asking for permission, and the queen nodded, trying hard not to laugh at her poorly disguised eagerness.

"Are these rescue staves?" Morgan asked, as she took a familiar looking staff from the shelf. It shared the wing-patterned and gemmed design of the recue staves from Ylisse, but was topped with a blue stone rather than a greenish one.

"Yes," Micaiah said.

Upon hearing her confirmation, Morgan retrieved two of the rescue staves, and two potent, long-ranged healing staves, passing one of each to Soren. Soren accepted the two staves without question or comment.

"You should take one of these, too," Micaiah suggested, as she lifted a staff crested with a ruby. "It's a torch staff, which can fill the surrounding area with magical light.

"Thanks," Morgan said, accepting the offered staff with a curious look, before passing it along to Soren. As she looked through the contents of the shelf one more time, her gaze lingered upon a golden staff topped with a small diamond-encrusted idol. "What kind of staff is that one?" she asked, pointing it out.

Lionel glanced at the staff uneasily, and for the first time since Micaiah offered the armory's goods to them, she looked a little bit hesitant. "The Unity Staff. It's an incredibly powerful healing staff. As far as I know, it's one-of-a-kind," she explained.

"Ah. Well, we're all set on healing staves already," Morgan said quickly, sensing her uneasiness.

Micaiah shook her head. "You're welcome to take it with you, but I don't know for certain how useful it will be." Unable to resist, Morgan reached for the staff, bringing it closer for a better look at the idol.

Meanwhile, Soren seemed to have lost interest already. "Let me guess, not everyone can use it," Soren said, sounding bored.

"Correct. Some wounds are too grievous to be repaired by any normal healing staff. Normal healing staves will still function, but although the wound may appear to be mended, it will still ultimately prove fatal. Such wounds are not beyond the Unity Staff," Micaiah explained. "But the power comes with a condition as unique as its powers. The wielder must be willing to die for the sake of the person being healed."

"The staff kills its wielder!?" Morgan gasped.

Micaiah shook her head quickly. "No. Not right away, at least. But similar to light magic, the staff draws upon the sincerity of its wielder, and will not function if the wielder is not truly devoted to saving the life of the intended target. And upon using the staff, the person wielding it and the person being healed are inexorably bound."

"If one dies, so does the other," Lionel clarified.

"At least, that's the belief that the staff instills in its wielder," Micaiah admitted. "The staff has only ever been used once before."

"By a branded queen," Soren reasoned. He then glanced at Lionel, who shifted uncomfortably. "To save her son?"

"You are as perceptive as always," Micaiah said, with a sad smile.

"Another legacy of our battle with Extinction," Lionel said with a grimace.

"He was dying, and beyond the reach of normal healing magic. I had no choice but to imbue another of Ashunera's gifts upon a normal healing staff," Micaiah said.

"So if one of you pass away, the other will, too?" Priam asked, sounding horrified.

"I can't be certain of it, but I believe so," Micaiah said. "Just as an experienced mage can gain a general understanding of the magical properties of an unfamiliar spell tome simply by holding it, when I tried to use the staff, it seemed to be warning me of the consequences."

Morgan and Priam both stared at the staff. After several seconds, Morgan spoke up. "I don't think we'll get into any trouble as deep as to need something _this_ extreme," she said. She moved as if to return the staff to the weapons rack, but Micaiah stopped her.

"Take it with you anyways," Micaiah offered. "There's no harm in carrying it. And truly, it's not as terrible as it sounds. The consequences were no worse than what would have been had I not been able to use the staff."

"Unless something happens to me," Lionel reminded.

Micaiah only smiled at him. "Which is a good reason for you to take care of yourself, isn't it?"

Upon seeing Micaiah's serene acceptance, Morgan understood. She knew that in the same situation, either her mother or her father would both be willing to do the same for her. To a loving parent, the risk was hardly even a factor. In a way, it was strangely congruent with the conditions the staff leveled upon its wielder.

"We can take care of ourselves," Priam assured confidently. "I doubt we'll need the staff."

Morgan nodded in agreement. "I don't know how useful it will be. And we might not be able to use it, even if it's necessary.

"It's of no use here in the armory," Micaiah countered. "And it won't cost you anything if you don't find a need for it, or can't use it."

Reluctantly, Morgan held onto the staff and placed it in her pack with the healing and rescue staves she had taken earlier. "I think we're all set then," she said, taking one last look around the armory.

"There's one more issue we must address," Soren said. "Once we leave this room, we must assume that we are always being watched. It is critical that we keep our true intentions masked."

"Soren, wouldn't Tantalus be suspicious if we seem too willing to help?" Morgan reminded.

"He might. That is why we won't present a perfectly unified front," Soren replied. "A deception is most believable when it holds a seed of truth. Just as each of us came here for different reasons, and sees this world from our own unique perspective, while we are working for Tantalus in exchange for his help with our own mission, our behavior must reflect what he expects to see."

Morgan nodded slowly. "I came here to find Owain. If Tantalus has been watching us carefully, he should already know neither Priam nor I are from Tellius."

"Correct," Soren said. "Your role is easiest. You might be curious, and you might have a casual interest in Tellius's wellbeing, but to you, finding and protecting your friend comes first." Soren then turned to Priam. "As for you, Priam. Tellius and its people may be foreign to you, but Tantalus almost assuredly knows who you are already."

"He recognized my sword," Priam agreed.

"Yes. And though you harbored doubts about Tantalus, between the three of us, you are the one most dedicated to Tellius's welfare," Soren said.

"Why?" Priam asked, confused.

"Because you're the Radiant Hero's descendant, trying to prove yourself worthy of your bloodline," Morgan answered in Soren's stead.

"What better way to do so than returning to his homeland in its time of need?" Soren asked rhetorically.

"But what about you?" Priam asked. "This is your homeland, isn't it, Uncle?"

"That's hardly relevant, given the passage of time," Soren said dryly. "And it would be easier for Tantalus to believe that any love I once held for this land faded with the centuries. My role here is to bridge the gap between your doubts and our willingness to aid Tantalus. I traveled here to protect the two of you and assist with your quest, and have no interest in Tellius's affairs aside from where they are pertinent to our objective."

Morgan frowned. While Soren was certainly good at making it look like he didn't care about anything or anyone in particular, she wasn't sure it would be what Tantalus was expecting. "Are you sure he'd believe that?" she asked.

"I was about to ask the same thing," Micaiah said, concerned.

"You really don't remember me very well, do you?" Soren asked Micaiah wryly. "My cover is practically true. I never cared to come back, even after Ike passed on. And if it weren't for Morgan and Priam wanting to travel here, I wouldn't be here now."

"You have found yourself a new home," Micaiah agreed.

Soren's expression darkened briefly, but again, his reply was vague. "A lot has changed over the past few centuries. And to be quite honest, Tellius has invoked many old memories, more bitter than sweet."

"Okay, so Soren's playing the role of a bitter old man," Morgan summarized cheerfully, having grown bored of the subject. She smiled at Soren as if goading him to respond, but of course, Soren didn't react aside from a brief nod.

"Then what is my part in this?" Lionel asked.

Soren turned and shot him a quizzical look. "That's a good question. What _is_ your part in this?"

"Lionel should accompany you. It's the least we can do," Micaiah explained. "I would go myself, but it's not so easy for me to simply disappear, especially after such a long reign."

"A prince disappearing would be just as jarring," Soren pointed out.

Lionel shook his head. "A normal prince, perhaps. But I rarely stay in Nevassa for long."

"Wouldn't it be suspicious if the prince of Daein was working alongside us?" Priam asked.

"That depends," Morgan said thoughtfully. "We've heard rumors that Daein might be sponsoring the Redeemers. It would be in Daein's own interest to take a firm stand against them, wouldn't it?"

"That's true," Soren agreed. "If you're certain that you'd like to join us, then you are welcome to, Prince Lionel."

"The four of us, then," Lionel agreed. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. The sooner we act, the better," Soren said. "We should get some rest before we leave."

* * *

The subterfuge began as soon as they stepped forth from the doorway. Castle Daein's available guest rooms weren't all closely grouped, so the queen led Soren and Priam off in one direction, as Lionel escorted Morgan back to her room down the opposite hall.

Reminding herself to act perfectly natural, Morgan kept up a steady line of cheerful small talk as Lionel led the way. It wasn't difficult; even if she wanted to avoid talking about some of the specific items they had chosen, she had noticed several other interesting pieces of equipment, and bombarded Lionel with questions about Daein's collection. Lionel, surprised by the energetic behavior, only shook his head in disbelief and tried to answer her questions briefly. Still, she saw a faint smile cross the prince's lips, and was relieved that though Lionel didn't seem too interested in a true conversation in the middle of the night, at least he wasn't as reserved as Soren.

"Say, if you don't mind me asking… how old are you, Prince?" Morgan asked curiously. The question had been gnawing at her for some time, and though it seemed rude to ask, she finally caved in.

Lionel grinned. "Just call me Lionel. I prefer saving the formalities for the political blather. And I don't mind; most branded and Laguz come to terms with their age pretty quickly. To answer your question, I turned 513 earlier this summer."

"Wow..." was all Morgan could say, awed as she was. Of course, Soren hadn't been specific about his own age, other than the fact that he had arrived in Ylisse over five centuries ago.

"I was born less than two years following the War of the Goddess," Lionel explained. "My father, Sothe, was one of the Beorc who fought alongside my mother, and the Radiant Hero, against the goddess. He married my mother almost immediately following the war."

"Did you ever get to meet Ike?" Morgan asked.

Lionel shook his head. "Ike and Soren disappeared from Tellius less than three months after their victory. It seems Ike had also invited along one of his Laguz friends, a Gallian named Ranulf. Ranulf had other obligations to attend to, though. The rest of Ike's comrades only learned of Ike and Soren's departure when Ranulf spread the word later. By the time I was born, both Ike and Soren had faded into mere legend."

"What about your mother's other companions, then? Surely you met with several of them," Morgan said.

"I did, when I was younger," Lionel confirmed. "For the first few decades after the war, my mother and her old companions held reunions at least once a year. Our gatherings were all over the continent, and by the time I turned twenty, I had visited Crimea, Begnion, Gallia, and Phoenicis."

Morgan smiled at the thought, for it reminded her of the Shepherds' reunions. But before she could comment on the similarity, they arrived at her room. "Get some sleep, Morgan," Lionel said. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"Alright. Good night," she said cheerily, as Lionel left. Privately, she wondered how much sleep she would actually find this night. The soft bed and warm sheets were inviting, but inwardly, she was still bursting with excitement, with just a touch of doubt.

Postponing the search for Owain didn't trouble her much, to her surprise. After thinking it over, she reasoned that it was probably on account of the similarities between Ylisse and Tellius. The people they had met so far were friendly enough, and though there were hints of trouble, the danger was nothing on the scale of the fell dragon's dark rise to power. Even the eidolons, though dangerous, were nowhere near as fearsome as the risen.

In contrast, Morgan was a lot less confident about their own path. The choice had seemed obvious to her, and she wasn't going to second guess her decision now, but there was a bit of nervous tension accompanying the knowledge that they were about to involve themselves in these grand happenings.

* * *

A castle guard woke Morgan late the next morning. Morgan yawned, and noted with some surprise that she had managed to fall asleep after all, and had slept soundly through the remainder of the night, and the bulk of the morning to boot. "Good morning!" she called through the door, as she started rummaging around for her clothing. She hesitated for a moment, though, upon seeing the robe Micaiah had given her the night before, and finally decided to try the new robe on properly.

Upon hearing her awaken, the guard informed her that the queen was waiting for her in the throne room. As Morgan dressed, she wondered what they were planning now. She nearly slapped herself when she realized how obvious the answer was; as part of their plan, they would have to act as if the previous night's gathering was about equipment, and _only_ equipment. They had to decide, officially and somewhat publicly, on their following course of action.

She kept her thoughts from showing on her face, though of course, that only sent a shudder down her spine, as she realized if Tantalus was capable of spying on them, he could even be watching her this very moment. Of course, they had no idea how far Tantalus's reach or sight really was, but the thought only renewed Morgan's determination to cling to their little game as tightly as possible.

That resolve was sorely tested not long after she arrived in the throne room, however.

It seemed her two companions had also been late in waking, for she found herself alone with the queen and the prince when she arrived. The conversation began only after Priam and Soren arrived together, about ten minutes later.

The discussion that ensued was essentially a rehash of the stiff and rather cold exchange that Soren and Micaiah had shared when they had first arrived. It was fitting, but rather boring. Micaiah asked her to describe Owain again, and then apologized in a seemingly sincere manner that she had not heard of anyone meeting Owain's description. After the queen promised to pass word of their search to Owain if word of him reached her, Soren again brought up the possibility of searching for help 'elsewhere'.

He asked Micaiah about the Redeemers again, and though her answer was, in essence, the same information she had given them the night before, their conversation didn't extend to Extinction, or any of their fears surrounding the Redeemers. Nothing to imply any hostility or doubts, beyond the rumors.

Likewise, when Soren explained that they were going to search out and help someone who claimed to be working against the Redeemers, Soren didn't mention anything else they knew about Tantalus. Lionel volunteered to accompany them formally, supposedly in the interest of shedding light upon the rumors, and that was the end of it.

Morgan did her best to hide her relief as they emerged from the throne room, with instructions to meet with Lionel at the city outskirts after restocking their supplies. The prince set off at a faster pace, to secure a ride for them back toward the port, from which the Snowflake Forest was a mere two days by foot.

"Hopefully this will be quick," Priam said, perfectly reflecting Morgan's unspoken plea. "Are you looking forward to seeing your friend?"

"Yeah," Morgan said. "Though I'm a little worried we won't be able to find Tantalus again." She glanced at Soren. "What do we do if we can't find him?"

"Then our search won't be as quick as we hope," Soren said distractedly, as he led them toward the marketplace.

* * *

They caught up to Lionel half an hour later, waiting beside the promised cart. He had evidently changed, for he was no longer wearing his regal nobleman's outfit, but a finely tailored leather brigandine and matching trousers. He also wore a forest-green hood and cloak, apparently opting for a more subtle appearance, and was leaning on what looked to be a finely polished wooden hiking staff. "Ready to leave?" he asked, as he saw the three of them approach.

"Yes," Soren replied, as he set down his traveling bag in the cart. Morgan and Priam followed suit. They were traveling relatively light, since they'd be on their own pretty soon, but there was no reason to tire themselves out unnecessarily. "Will this gentleman will be escorting us back to the coast?" Soren asked, with a slight nod towards the grizzled looking middle-aged man holding the reins of the two horses tethered to the cart.

"All the way to the edge of the forest," Lionel corrected with a smile. "Though we'll have to find our own way back."

"That should be fine," Morgan said. "We might not be returning directly to Nevassa, anyways."

"And even if we do, we don't know when," Soren added. "I do like your weapon, Lionel. I'm curious, though. How much did you pay for that particular treasure? I seem to recall Shinon caring more about it than he did anything else. Than any_one_ else too, for that matter."

"Weapon?" Morgan asked, peering at Lionel inquisitively, for he didn't seem to be carrying any weapons. None openly, at least.

"My bow," Lionel explained, with a light shake of his hiking staff. With a start, Morgan realized that the staff was actually an unstrung bow. Lionel set the bow down in the cart beside a quiver. "And old Shinon did treasure his weapon, even after he retired and settled down here in Daein. It seemed he treasured his liquor more, though, and when he finished spending what gold he had saved…"

"You took the chance to add another blessed weapon to Daein's collection," Soren finished.

"Something like that," Lionel said, with a shrug. "It wasn't hard to convince him to sell it to us, which makes it all the more likely that if we hadn't bought it from him, he would've ripped himself off selling it at a nondescript pawnshop."

"Does it have a name?" Priam asked curiously.

Lionel shrugged. "It's a double bow, designed for long-ranged accuracy. This weapon, too, was blessed by Yune. I don't know if it had another name, but Shinon just called it 'Shinon's Bow'."

"Figures. That ignorant egotist," Soren muttered.

At his words, Morgan glanced down at her own sword and frowned. Eternity was a fine weapon, even if it seemed to pale in comparison to the ancient and divinely empowered weapons her companions carried. It wasn't the weapon's power or quality that bothered her, though.

The weapon was an exact copy of her father's sword, and judging from what Severa told her, it was all she had left of her parents from the original timeline. It had once been a standard ceremonial silver sword, but Morgan's mother had reforged it herself for Robin. Her father was impeccably careful with Eternity, and she, too, had learned to protect her favorite weapon. Still, after years of use, a few signs of its age where beginning to show. A handful of small nicks on the blade and a few scratches on the sword's guard had proved unavoidable.

Eternity probably wouldn't last forever, despite its name, Morgan realized. And if by some miracle it did, would anyone even remember its name, or anything of what the sword meant to her? Perhaps there was a strong reason behind the old Chon'sin tradition of burying a treasured weapon with its wielder. It could be to protect the weapon, too, and to preserve what meaning remained.

She glanced at Priam's weapon belt, where Ragnell still hung, and for the first time, she felt that she could truly empathize with Priam's desire to prove himself worthy of his ancestor's legacy.


	8. Part Two: Duty

**~ Part Two ~**

**Duty**

_The thought of meeting Queen Micaiah made me a little bit nervous._

_Okay, that's a bit of an understatement. It made me very nervous._

_It's kind of like how it was when I realized who Soren was for the first time. Neither Soren nor Micaiah look particularly imposing. But when you begin to understand the depth of the experiences they've had, something about them just feels otherworldly, even though their lifespans are perfectly natural given their heritage._

_I noticed the same feeling with Lady Tiki, when she fought alongside the Shepherds. Our friend Nowi was a bit different, since she always seemed to behave like a child. Sometimes, it was hard to remember Nowi was really over a thousand years old. But with Lady Tiki, it was… different. It was as if her long life had given her a different perspective on the world. Neither Walhart's ambition nor Grima's ire seemed to faze her. It was as if she had grown to accept that conflict and danger were natural, and to be expected. Similarly, she never seemed to feel any doubt or fear._

_But she was far from unfeeling. After Grima's assault upon Ylisstol, when we walked amidst the bloodstained fields, retrieving the bodies of the many fallen defenders, she felt the same pain and grief we did. When a new temple was built upon Mount Prism in Naga's honor, Lady Tiki shared in the joy and relief of Naga's devout followers._

_Lady Tiki lived through the trials of the Hero King himself. I suppose even other events on such a grand and historic scale may seem mundane to her now. But the personal struggles, and the smaller stories that compose the grander tale, seem to profoundly affect her. It's as if she feels great evils like Grima will come and go, and what really matters is how such an event changes the lives of the many people around her._

_Soren, too, seems noticeably different. He has grown so detached over the years that it seems all of life's happenings, big or small, are just facts, doomed to become history, or outright forgotten. All of life's little struggles seem trivial to him. Fleeting._

_But Queen Micaiah is different. Our first audience with her was awkward and perfunctory, but later that night, when we spoke in the armory, Micaiah didn't seem nearly as different as Lady Tiki and Soren did. In fact, I felt as if I could see a bit of many of my friends and family in her._

_She holds the same commitment toward her people and country as Uncle Chrom. I could sense the same streak of determination that burns brightly in Lucina. Like Dad, she prizes the many experiences she shared with her friends. And her love for her son is the same love that once drove Mom and Dad to fight alongside the Shepherds in the Valmese war._

_Despite the fact that she has seen the birth and death of many centuries, or perhaps because of that very fact, Queen Micaiah has come to share many of the values of the people I have known and respect. Many of the values that I, myself, hold dear. Age and experience has only made her more comfortable in her beliefs._

_That's when I realized something else._

_When I came to Tellius, I expected to find a world apart from my own. Tellius was not my world, its people were not my people, and its problems were not mine either. I had thought my role to be that of an observer, with my own troubles to attend to._

_But ever since we stopped so briefly in Port Toha, I realized that despite the many differences between Ylisse and Tellius, it doesn't really feel as distant and foreign as I thought it would._

_And now that I've caught a glimpse of the plight that awaits Tellius and its people, I understand that I cannot simply allow such terrible schemes to be carried out uncontested. Even before Micaiah asked for our help, I was already searching for a way to take part in this._

_Though now, I find myself wondering why._

_It's not for glory. I was content to fade from history, and like Lucina, my part in the war against Grima isn't even known. Funnily enough, Dad admitted he was actually a little bit jealous of how Lucina and I managed to escape the attention altogether. I can't blame him, either. It does look awfully stifling, and even embarrassing._

_It's not out of pride, either. I want to help, but truthfully, I don't know how much help I can be. Soren makes our plan sound so simple and straightforward, but secretly, I wonder if it will really pan out the way he says it will._

_I know it might prove to be foolish. It might be a complete waste of time. But still, I feel like it's something I have to try anyways._

_Maybe it's just because it's the right thing to do._

_Or maybe it's just curiosity. Perhaps I just want to watch these events unfold._


	9. Chapter 5

**~ Chapter 5 ~**

Morgan had spotted the Flameheart Mountains in the distance once already, toward the end of their voyage. The tall mountains remained visible all the way until they had traveled inland, and even far away, they had seemed quite imposing. Up close, the mountain range's sheer size proved even more intimidating, and though summer sun shined above them, it looked as if the mountain peaks were dusted in pure, white snow.

"I bet if we were to climb to the top of the mountains, we could reach out and touch the clouds," Morgan mused, even as she silently wondered if climbing such a large mountain would be possible. "Wouldn't that be amazing?"

"Let's not get distracted," Soren said, rolling his eyes.

"Distracted from walking?" Morgan asked defensively, for they were still making their way across the foothills, around the mountains and toward the Snowflake Forest. "You should lighten up a little, Soren."

"I didn't mean by the conversation," Soren corrected. "But hiking up the Flameheart Mountains isn't on our itinerary, I'm afraid. Besides, you can't 'touch' clouds."

"Sure you can," Morgan insisted. "They're made of water, right?"

"They are?" Priam asked, surprised. Soren groaned, exasperated.

Ignoring Soren, Morgan said, "I read that clouds are just tiny drops of water, light enough to float."

"Light enough to fall slowly, and be lifted by updrafts," Soren corrected. "They're not solid, and if you could reach them, they would feel as substantial as a coastal fog."

"And no, you can't reach them from the mountain peaks, no matter how close they look from here," Lionel added, smiling. "I scaled the mountain once as a child, with my father and one of his friends."

"Ooh! How long did it take?" Morgan asked excitedly.

"To reach the peaks? I can't remember for sure. I think it took us about two weeks," Lionel said. "I wouldn't recommend it. It gets awfully cold up there."

"We have mountains in Ylisse, but none of them are as tall as these. The view up there must be gorgeous," Morgan said with another wistful glance towards the mountains.

"Probably, though I wouldn't know. I was too busy trying to keep my eyelids from freezing shut," Lionel said with a smirk.

Morgan's eyes went wide. "It was _that_ cold?" She had traveled to Ferox once during the winter to visit the fabled Feroxi Springs with her family. Morgan's sister, Severa, had naturally complained about the frigid climate for most of the journey, but aside from a numbing sensation in her hands, Morgan had found it reasonably bearable.

"I was wearing five coats near the end of our climb, and found myself wishing I had brought more," Lionel replied. "But if it's just a view you're after, you don't have to climb quite that high."

"True," Morgan agreed. She glanced at Priam and noted the contemplative look on his face. "Are you alright, Priam? You're awfully quiet."

Priam laughed. "It never ceases to amaze me how much there is to see out there in the world," he admitted.

"Especially when you rarely set foot beyond the border of Azure Pyre," Soren pointed out. "You can see the Eastern Ylissean Range from your house, yet you've never expressed the slightest interest in hiking."

"I had no reason to consider such a journey before," Priam replied with a shrug. "It was just a mountain."

"And it still is," Soren said, rolling his eyes. "As are the Flameheart Mountains. There's no purpose to such a journey."

"Sure there is," Morgan insisted. "It could be fun, right? And besides, even little experiences are worth having." She turned to Priam and grinned impishly. "Tell you what, Priam. When we get home, if you want to go hiking and Soren's still being a stick in the mud, come find me and my friends in Ylisse. We'll go with you."

Priam laughed again. "Don't worry, Morgan. Soren's exaggerating a little bit; I've been out of the village on my own plenty of times before."

"I know, but it's no fun traveling alone," Morgan said. "And sometimes, your companions will notice things you might not have."

"Things such as the eidolons flying toward us right now?" Soren asked dryly.

Morgan, Priam, and Lionel all looked up to see several small, dark objects flying closer. It took Morgan a moment to make them out, but they were indeed the same as the flying eidolons that had attacked the port before. "Wraiths," Morgan whispered, remembering the name Tantalus had ascribed to them.

"How did that saying of yours go again, Priam? 'Of the many obstacles a warrior may face, few are as treacherous as distraction?'" Soren added sarcastically, as he drew his tome.

Priam only grinned broadly as she drew his own sword, evidently enjoying the prospect of a straightforward challenge.

* * *

Before the wraiths came within range, they scattered slightly, breaking their tight formation. Gripping her own fire tome, Morgan felt a twinge of dismay as she watched Soren draw his wind tome; wind magic usually excelled against flying enemies with its improved accuracy and ability to disrupt air currents.

"They're not entirely mindless," Morgan then realized aloud, as the wraiths were specifically spreading out to make it harder for Morgan and Soren to strike them from afar. The repositioning gave their party a little more time to prepare, but their weapons were already all in easy reach. There was no cover to be found on the open foothills, save for the woods that were still nearly half a mile away.

"Their simple tactics won't save them. There's only a dozen of them, anyways," Soren assured calmly. Morgan and Lionel both had their weapons readied, but Soren still held his tome at his side in a rather nonchalant pose, confident in his own speed. The tome snapped up into the air a moment later, and a gale of wind burst forth, taking down the leading wraith, even as Lionel's bow sent an arrow spinning past it into a second wraith. "Priam, get ready to handle the ones that get through," Soren instructed, and Priam obediently advanced forward, standing in front of his three companions.

Morgan knew that her fire magic was inherently less accurate than Soren's wind magic, and held her fire for a few seconds longer to compensate. By the time she launched her first spell, five of the eidolons had already been destroyed by either Lionel's arrows or Soren's wind magic. As soon as they came within her range, Morgan fired three spells in quick succession, bringing down two of the remaining wraiths and wounding a third, which Lionel calmly dispatched. After Soren's next magical barrage connected, only a pair of wraiths remained.

Priam was more than ready for them, and with a clean swipe, Priam sent Ragnell tearing through one wraith's wings, while easily avoiding the second one's straightforward rush. The move put Priam between Soren and the last wraith, though, and Lionel held his fire, knowing that a missed shot could easily injure one of his companions. Despite his long years of training with the bow, a fast, flying target at such a close range was not an easy mark.

Morgan knew Priam could likely handle the last wraith, but showed no restraint, deciding that now was as good a time as any to experiment. She cast her fire tome aside and lifted one of the light tomes Micaiah had given her. A sphere of light appeared over the wraith and plummeted downwards, adjusting itself unerringly to collide with the wraith. As the spell connected, it erupted into a scintillating spire of light that cause Morgan and Priam to both shrink back, shielding their eyes.

When the spell faded, they realized the eidolon had apparently been incinerated entirely, and only a few cloudy wisps of golden vapor drifted through the air where the wraith had been moments ago.

"That was pretty impressive," Lionel finally said, after a moment of silence. "Are you sure you've never used light magic before?"

Morgan nodded numbly, still in awe at the raw power of her spell.

"Must be a pretty powerful tome. Well done, Morgan," Priam congratulated.

Soren shook his head. "I don't think so. I believe I've seen that tome before. It's pretty average, as far as light magic goes, although it _is_ particularly effective against cavalry and heavily armored foes. And against eidolons, apparently."

"Indeed," Lionel agreed with a nod. "The tome is called Thani. It's my mother's personal favorite, but even she admits that there are far stronger light tomes out there. I suppose it doesn't matter in her case, since she hasn't been forced into battle for over a century."

"There are light tomes more powerful than this one?" Morgan asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes. There were even some kept in the armory," Lionel admitted. "This one is more suitable for beginners, though."

"It should be strong enough for our purposes," Soren said, gesturing toward where the last wraith had been obliterated. By now, no trace of it remained at all. "Let's keep moving. If those eidolons were also sent to hunt for Tantalus, we might not have much time."

* * *

"So, where are we headed now?" Morgan asked, after they reached the edge of the forest.

"We could just wander around until we find him, or he finds us," Priam suggested halfheartedly. He glanced at Soren, hoping the mage would have a better idea.

Soren only shrugged and said, "We don't have much information to go on. Are there any small towns or villagers in this region? That would be as good a place to start as any." He looked pointedly at Lionel, who was the closest thing to a guide they had, given that the maps of the region that Lionel had prepared were rather vague and nondescript.

"There's a trading settlement not too far from here," Lionel confirmed. "And a small village a bit deeper in the forest. Let's try the settlement first."

"Why would you establish a trading settlement so far from the rest of society?" Morgan wondered. "If there's only one village nearby to trade with, merchants wouldn't be able to do much business here, would they?"

"It's a good resting point," Lionel explained. "Some of the merchants come from the south, or from the eastern parts of Crimea. Others come from the east, from western Daein. The straight route cuts across rather uneven terrain, with plenty of lakes and woods, but the main roads leading to and from Wilderness's Edge, such as the foothills we ourselves traveled along, are clear."

"How far is this settlement?" Priam asked.

"Not far. In fact, we're…" Lionel began, but his voice trailed off and he fell silent as a large, deserted forest clearing came into view.

"This is the settlement?" Morgan asked, frowning, as her gaze swept the clearing, noting the remnants of old campfires. There were a few marks left behind by tents, and some old tracks that were close to undecipherable, but it looked as if it had been days since anyone passed through. Sunlight glinted off scraps of metal debris scattered around the far side of the clearing, and the soil seemed to have been roughly and haphazardly disturbed.

"It looks like it's been deserted for a while," Priam commented, echoing Morgan's sentiments aloud.

"Perhaps the settlement hasn't hosted any travelers lately," Soren suggested quietly. "Even if it lies along a commonly used trading route, this settlement is far enough that it can't expect to see visitors every day."

"It's possible," Lionel admitted, though he didn't sound convinced. He approached the scattered debris for a closer look. "This debris was only recently left here," he finally decided, after carefully studying the markings on the soil. "I can't be certain where this scrap metal came from, but most of it is fine steel. Any merchants passing by would have salvaged the larger fragments, at least."

"It looks like there was an explosion here," Morgan observed, eyeing the scorch marks left in the soil.

Meanwhile, Priam had slipped ahead, unnoticed by the others until he called out to them. "It looks like there was a battle fought here!" he called out.

Morgan and Lionel hurried to Priam's side, with Soren following at a leisurely pace. When they reached him, Priam pointed out some reddish-brown streaks in the dirt.

"Blood," Lionel muttered, as he observed that the dried blood seemed to form a trail of sorts. He followed the erratic marks to the edge of the clearing, and just beyond the tree, there was a large patch of soil that looked as if it had recently been unearthed. "A grave?"

Morgan snuck a peek at the loosened soil and grimaced. If it was a grave, it could have easily held at least three or four human-sized corpses.

"That explains much," Soren said abruptly, as he spotted the grave.

"It does?" Lionel and Priam asked together.

"This settlement was probably raided," Soren guessed, looking around. "Since the settlement no longer felt safe, the survivors probably fled."

"How do you know there were any survivors?" Lionel asked, scratching his head.

"Someone had to dig this grave," Morgan reasoned.

Soren nodded. "If the raid was perpetrated by typical outlaws, they might have buried their victims to conceal their trail, but they wouldn't have left valuable scrap metal behind. More likely, the grave was dug by the settlement's surviving defenders."

"Why would outlaws target this settlement?" Priam asked. "People who willingly venture so far away from more civilized areas rarely do so defenseless."

"Most highwaymen prefer to waylay vulnerable travelers along busier roads, just far enough from major population centers to avoid the attention of the kingdom's patrols," Lionel agreed.

"Then maybe it wasn't highwaymen," Morgan said. "It could be eidolons. Or maybe it was just wild animals. Wolves, or maybe a bear." She looked at the grave again, noting its odd shape and feeling comfortable with her guess; the grave was dug in a rather irregular shape, implying that whoever dug the grave had likely not cared too much for its occupants. Perhaps it didn't host any human remains, after all.

"It could be," Soren agreed. "Would you like to dig up the grave?" he asked dryly. Morgan shuddered and shook her head immediately, before spotting the knowing glint in the older tactician's eyes. She glared at him, annoyed, but naturally, Soren ignored her.

"Should we?" Priam asked. Unlike Morgan, the thought of digging up the bodies didn't seem to faze him much.

"No. It's of no concern to us," Soren said decisively. "Lionel, where is the other village that you spoke of?"

"To the west," Lionel said, gesturing toward the beaten path.

* * *

They followed the western path away from the settlement, eventually coming to the side of a river, where they found the remains of a ruined bridge.

"I guess whoever attacked the settlement must have destroyed the bridge, too," Soren guessed. "Or perhaps the settlement's residents destroyed it as they fled, fearing pursuit."

"What now, then?" Priam said, glancing at Lionel.

"I hope you three know how to swim," Lionel joked flippantly, trying to hide his discomfort. Their current scenario was beginning to feel too strange to be a coincidence.

"Of course. Race you," Morgan challenged, smiling and playing along. Of course, she had no intention of swimming through a wide, coursing river.

Lionel chuckled softly, but his expression quickly grew somber once more. "There's definitely something strange going on in these parts. Maybe it has to do with your friend, Tantalus," he said speculatively.

"It's quite possible. The Redeemers were pursuing him, after all," Soren said.

"Is it really safe to continue searching for him ourselves, then?" Priam asked.

"If we can't find him, the alternative is to search the rest of the continent ourselves," Soren said in a bored tone. "Is there another way around the river, Lionel?"

"There's an older path that cuts through the forest, leading to a bridge in the north, and I believe there's another bridge to the south of here, too," Lionel said. "But either way, we won't reach Silent Grove before nightfall."

"Fine. It remains our best option," Soren said with a shrug, as he turned around. "North or south?"

"Let's go with north. I'm not quite sure how far south the southern bridge is," Lionel decided, as he quickly rushed past his companions, taking point once more.

* * *

Before long, Morgan grew tired of the sullen silence. Perhaps it was in the interest of maintaining their disguise. Or perhaps Soren was secretly unhappy with the way the meeting with Micaiah had gone. Either way, Soren had been even quieter than usual ever since setting out from Nevassa. And though Priam tried his best to act normal, Morgan couldn't help but feel that he, too, was acting a bit distant.

She wasn't too worried about it. She couldn't say for sure, but she had a feeling that to an outsider, she might have been acting a little bit differently herself. The sense of discomfort that accompanied the knowledge that Tantalus could be watching them still lingered poignantly. They were all doing their best to act normal, though, and that was the most any of them could hope for.

So Morgan wasn't worried. Just bored.

Since it was clear that neither Priam nor Soren felt like talking, Morgan turned her attention to her newest companion, and casually quickened her pace so that she could catch up to Prince Lionel, who was still leading the way.

"Hey, Lionel," Morgan greeted cheerily.

"Hello, Morgan," Lionel said, returning her greeting politely.

Morgan caught herself only just before she could attempt to resume her conversation with Lionel from a few nights ago in Castle Daein. "I've been meaning to ask, do you have any family? Other than Queen Micaiah," Morgan said, deciding it was best not to reference their prior conversation at all.

"I do. But it's been some time since I've met with any of them," Lionel replied.

"Really? How come?" Morgan asked curiously.

"Too many awkward family reunions," Lionel said with a rueful smile. "My mother warned me it would happen, but naturally, I didn't believe her at first. It took my toddler grandson asking why his parents looked older than I did for the truth to really sink in."

"Truth? Wait, grandson?" Morgan asked, her head spinning as she tried to keep up.

"Grandson," Lionel confirmed, with a patient smile. "And that was hundreds of years ago. I have descendants today who are at least as many generations removed from me as Priam is from the Radiant Hero."

"Really?" Morgan said, sounding awed. "Though I guess it probably feels a bit strange, too."

"Not as much as you would think," Lionel said lightly. "You come to accept the differences of longevity after a while. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the many things I've seen and lived through over the years, and I treasure the memories I shared with my wife and children. But the last time I met one of my descendants was nearly thirty years ago."

"Thirty years?" Morgan gasped.

Lionel nodded. "That's the way it is. Clinging to memories and bloodlines is quite senseless. It is better for both myself and my descendants to live our own lives," he explained.

"But shouldn't many of your descendants still be alive? They share you and your mother's Laguz heritage, don't they?" Morgan asked.

"Not every child of mixed heritage becomes branded," Lionel said. "There are many theories as to why some children show a brand while some do not, but nothing definitive. Many children of mixed Beorc and Laguz parentage are Beorc themselves. None of my children were branded. The first of my descendants to inherit the brand was my youngest granddaughter."

"Does that mean your granddaughter is…?" Morgan began to ask, though she bit off the end of her question, fearing the answer.

"She's alive and well," Lionel reassured. "She's been living in Phoenicis for some time now, though she comes back to Daein to visit me at least once a year, thankfully."

"Once a year? But you said…" Morgan said.

"I guess I should've been clear. The last time I've been _introduced_ to a descendant that I didn't know of was thirty years ago," Lionel corrected, with a roguish grin.

"I wonder if Soren has a bunch of descendants out there who he's never met, too," Morgan said quietly, as she glanced back at Soren. Both Priam and Soren seemed to be studying a map intently, and neither paid her any attention.

"It's possible," Lionel said, keeping his voice down as well. "But it's only one of the many roads available to the branded. Some choose to reside with other branded, sharing their lives with those who share their perspectives on life. Others prefer to live their lives alone, distancing themselves from the inevitable loss."

Morgan frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder what kind of life I would choose if I could live for hundreds of years. I don't know, it sounds like too much to think about."

"That it is," Lionel said with a laugh. "Trust me. It's easier to make it up as you go. If you spend too long thinking about it, it's far too easy to forget to live."

* * *

Just as Lionel had warned them, by his estimate, they were only halfway to their destination by the time night fell upon them. "There's another bridge coming up soon, with a sizable clearing nearby," Lionel said, as the forest grew darker around them. "Before the southern bridge was built, the villagers would always take this route to visit Wilderness's Edge."

"Why would the first bridge they built be so far away?" Morgan asked, puzzled.

"It wasn't built by the forest's villagers," Lionel explained. "Prospectors found several large veins of gold in the Flameheart Mountains about a century ago. That's when Wilderness's Edge was founded. The mountains are filled with mines, now, and they built the bridge to open up the possibility of establishing a port, too. The gold rush went dry, though, and before long, all that remained was a quiet village called Silent Grove and a resting point for traveling merchants which became Wilderness's Edge."

They reached the campsite less than half an hour later. Unsurprisingly, it, too, was deserted. After a quick inspection of the marks left in the dirt and the disused fire pit, Lionel frowned. "Strange. It seems someone used this campsite fairly recently," he observed.

"But you said this route was really only used before the bridge was built, right?" Morgan said. "So whoever last used this camp probably did so after learning the bridge was destroyed," she added thoughtfully.

A feral, unearthly growl interrupted her thoughts, and Morgan instinctively reached for her sword as she turned. Priam, Soren, and Lionel reacted similarly, and had their weapons drawn as well as they turned toward the source of the noise.

At first, all they saw was two golden swirls of fire. As the creature growled again, they could make out the shape of a bearlike creature, fully fifteen feet in length. Its head, illuminated by its glowing eyes, was eerily skeletal.

"I'm beginning to wonder if _anything_ is going as planned during this journey," Priam said conversationally.

Soren ignored Priam. "Lionel, is this an eidolon too?" he asked instead, as he poised himself to strike. Seeing that the monster wasn't making any overtly aggressive moves, Morgan emulated Soren, brandishing her sword defensively.

"It's not like any eidolon I've heard of before," Lionel admitted quietly, his gaze unwaveringly focused on the creature.

The bear growled yet again, but remained a safe distance away. Then it turned around, and began walking off into the forest. With its eyes turned away from them, its dark flesh faded into the equally dark foliage, leaving only the faintest outline visible.

Morgan held her breath as it turned, hardly believing that the obviously unnatural creature would simply leave them in peace. Less suspicious, both Priam and Lionel let out sighs of relief. The bear proved their feelings premature, though, when its head swiveled back toward them, and it emitted another low growl.

Lionel's bow came up instantaneously, with an arrow nocked and aimed precisely at the bear's face. The creature was completely unfazed, and was content continuously growing at them from a short distance.

After several seconds, Soren spoke up again. "I believe it wants us to follow it," he guessed. "It's not leaving, and it's not attacking. Perhaps this is what Tantalus meant when he said he'd find us."

"You think this creature is working for Tantalus?" Morgan asked with a soft gasp.

"Why not? The Redeemers reputedly use eidolons to their advantage, and Tantalus admits to having been a Redeemer once," Soren reminded.

"Tantalus used to be a Redeemer?" Lionel asked abruptly. Morgan and Priam both glanced at him, puzzled, but Morgan's confusion only lasted a second as she remembered Soren deliberately omitting that fact in their official briefing.

"That's right. We forgot to mention that, didn't we?" Morgan said quickly, silently berating herself for losing track of their little ploy so quickly. "Tantalus said he was one of the Redeemers once, and left after he realized they were going too far, or something like that."

"Their aims didn't quite align. What those aims are, we're not certain," Soren corrected, his attention still fixated on the bear, who had not moved an inch. "Those aims don't particularly matter, either. We'll find him and help him, and he'll help us. And if he deals with your Redeemer friends for you in the process, Prince, all the better."

Lionel frowned. "Are you sure we can trust him? And trusting Tantalus aside, are you sure we want to follow this creature blindly? We don't even know for sure if Tantalus sent it."

In answer, Soren took a few steps forward, though he kept his tome leveled. The bear, seeing Soren approach, continued in the direction it had been traveling before, but stopped again after several steps. "It definitely wants us to follow it," Soren decided. "Keep your weapons ready, though. The prince is right; this could very well be an ambush."

* * *

"I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this plan, Soren," Morgan admitted. They had been following the bearlike creature for over an hour, and the moon must have climbed high above them by now. Thick clouds blanketed the night sky, and the only light by which they could follow the bear came from the torch staff that Micaiah had offered them.

"Oh really? What brought about these doubts all of a sudden?" Lionel asked sarcastically. The prince had grown steadily more irate as the night grew darker and they followed the monstrosity farther and farther away from the more traveled forest paths.

"If you'd prefer, we can set up camp here with our guide hovering at the perimeter. I'm sure it will make for a restful night," Soren said coldly, as he adjusted the aim of his staff slightly, carefully illuminating the trail. In his other hand, his tome remained ready. "Of course, the limits of its patience are uncertain. One can only speculate how it will react if we choose to delay."

Lionel opened his mouth, thinking to suggest they simply destroy the bear, but rephrased his thoughts quickly on the off chance that the creature could understand him. "Fair enough. But the question remains: how far are we planning to follow this… thing? What if it's lost?"

"It's not lost," Soren said decisively.

Morgan looked at him strangely. "How do you know?"

Soren didn't dignify that question with a reply, and after a pregnant pause, Morgan giggled.

"What?" Soren demanded irritably.

"Oh, nothing," Morgan said innocently, though her impish smile was a giveaway in itself. When Soren only groaned and focused fastidiously on the road ahead once more, Morgan's smile only widened; amused to see that her question had seemingly put Soren at a complete loss.

* * *

They continued marching for what felt like an hour, until Soren came to an abrupt stop.

"What's wrong?" Priam asked.

"We're here," Soren said calmly, and with a quick wave of his staff, the cone of light shifted to reveal a short mountain trail, ending in a cave mouth. The bear had led them back to the edge of the forest, but along the northern part to what looked to be the less-traveled side of the Flameheart Mountains, and was now content lying dormant a safe distance away from the slope.

"What a relief," Lionel said, in a tone that made it perfectly clear that he wasn't relieved at all. "I've always wanted to follow a monstrous creature resembling an eidolon to a dark cave out in the middle of nowhere. During the night's darkest hours, too. Lovely."

Clearly not too happy with the situation himself, Priam gripped Ragnell a little more tightly. The blade had remained in his hand ever since they had first encountered their misshapen forest guide.

Soren, sounding unperturbed, said, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Prince." He started up the slope, eyeing the unmoving shape of the bear cautiously all the way, until he reached the cavern entrance. His companions followed quickly, and similarly continued watching the creature who had led them to the cave. The bear only remained perfectly still.

"Well… it's not an animal den," Morgan said, peering into the cave. "It's too clean for that."

"I think it would have been less worrisome if the cave was inhabited by wild animals," Soren quipped, before leading the way into the cavern fearlessly.

* * *

The cave tunnel was fairly straight, and surprisingly clean, a trait which Lionel found rather jarring. "This tunnel is surprisingly well kept," he remarked. He gestured toward a mark on the wall. "It looks like whoever lives in this cave even took the time to scrub the moss from the wall here. The floors have been kept perfectly clean, too."

"I'm glad you noticed. Some of us prefer to live in accommodations free of animal droppings and unannounced visitors," a voice familiar to all but Lionel replied.

Soren raised his staff instinctively, and its tip quickly flared to life. His reflexive movement swept the beam of light straight into Tantalus's face, who recoiled instinctively. "Would you please lower that staff a few inches?" Tantalus asked.

"Sorry," Soren apologized brusquely, as he obediently lowered the staff. "It seems we've found the right place, though."

Tantalus smiled wryly. "Found? And here I was thinking you were led here."

"By a rather unsightly creature," Lionel confirmed, his voice taking on a hard edge. "An eidolon?"

"A phantom," Tantalus corrected. "Eidolons are spirits who've adopted a physical form born purely from the elements or raw otherworldly energies. When they take a more complex form, native to our world, we call them phantoms instead."

"And that 'phantom' is yours to control?" Lionel demanded fiercely.

Tantalus grinned. "I control many phantoms. Any spirit charmer can exert some control over unbound spirits if they try." He turned to Soren. "No luck in Nevassa, it seems. My condolences."

Soren nodded. "Does your offer still stand, Tantalus?"

"Of course," Tantalus said, nodding. "But what part does the Daein prince play in this?" he asked, apparently recognizing Lionel. "And do we have to have this conversation in the middle of the night?"

"Your eidolon, or phantom, or whatever you want to call it found us as we were setting up camp," Lionel said, sounding rather annoyed. "And I'm here because Soren said you were working against the Redeemers. They are a threat to Daein, too. Although he failed to mention…"

"That I am a spirit charmer, and was once one of the Redeemers myself," Tantalus finished with a sigh. "Fear not, Prince. After my falling out with the Redeemers, I have all the enemies I can afford. Daein is in similar straits, I imagine. The phantoms under my control will pose no threat to you or your friends."

"Good," Soren interrupted quickly, as Lionel seemed on the verge of a harsh retort. "Then let's settle this quickly. How can you help us find our friend, and what help are you asking from us in return?"

"I am asking quite a bit, unfortunately," Tantalus replied with a crooked grin. "But for now, I will be content with getting some sleep. If you'd like, the four of you can stay in the living chamber."

"Living chamber?" Priam echoed.

"I'd call it a living room, but I thought chamber was an apt description," Tantalus said with a shrug. "We'll talk in the morning." With that said, he turned and plodded his way deeper into the cave. The torch he held revealed a much larger chamber, which Tantalus passed through on his way to a small doorway fitted with a simple wooden door.

"What now?" Priam asked, looking to Soren.

"It's better than sleeping outside," was Soren's only reply, as he stepped into the larger chamber, chose a corner clear of the simple furnishings, and unfurled his bed roll. His three companions looked at him incredulously, but he ignored their questioning looks and settled down quickly.

Morgan glanced at Priam and Lionel, and found the two of them looking back at her, sharing her unspoken doubts. She then looked at Soren again, who had already laid back with his eyes closed. She relaxed a bit when she noticed Soren's tome lying only a few inches from his hand. "Vigilant as always," Morgan murmured, as she unpacked her own bedroll. "Good night," she called to Priam and Lionel, as she found a clear spot to lie down herself.

* * *

When Morgan laid down and closed her eyes the night before, she half-expected to be awoken again shortly by rampaging eidolons or phantoms. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised when she awoke late the next morning to the scent of freshly baked bread.

"Good morning," Priam called, when he noticed she was awake. Lionel waved, too, from his seat beside Priam. Sitting across from them, Soren seemed to be entirely engrossed in a book.

"Good morning," Morgan replied as she pulled herself free of her tangled bedroll. "What book is that?" she asked curiously, as she sat down at the table with the others.

"Daein history. Past three centuries," Soren replied tersely.

"I picked it up from the library before we set out from Nevassa. I thought it might be of interest to the three of you," Lionel explained.

Morgan nodded, already planning on borrowing the book as soon as Soren was finished. "Where's Tantalus?" she asked.

"In the kitchen," Priam said, jerking a thumb toward one of the other doorways. For the first time, Morgan noticed the small spheres of what appeared to be fire, burning orange-red and hovering along the edges of the chamber.

"A simple conjuration," Tantalus explained, noticing Morgan's interest as he stepped out of the doorway Priam had just indicated, carrying a platter of fresh-baked rolls. "Magical innovation is a hobby of mine." He set the platter down on the table before taking a seat. "Help yourselves. I apologize for not being a better host; I'm afraid that being as far from the rest of civilization as I am, my options are quite limited when it comes to food.

Priam and Lionel both reached for the rolls without hesitation, and Morgan smiled slightly before grabbing one for herself, noticing that Lionel's demeanor had been improved drastically by a good night's rest.

Soren, on the other hand, made no move for the offered food. "I think I would prefer some answers," he said coolly. "What do you want from us, and what help are you offering us in return?"

"Of course," Tantalus said, smiling disarmingly. "Let's start with the Redeemers. A band of their soldiers have made their way north, and are camped just south of the Snowflake Forest. Currently, they do not pose much of a threat. However, they are hindering my search, and I would ask that you eliminate them."

"Why us?" Soren asked flatly. "With your vast repertoire of spirit magic and your many phantoms, eliminating a band of common soldiers yourself shouldn't require much of an effort."

"True," Tantalus admitted. "But that's not my objective here. I cannot conceal my whereabouts from my former compatriots forever."

"Wouldn't destroying the band reveal your position just as quickly?" Priam pointed out.

"Indeed. If I were to destroy their scouts personally, it would only make it easier for the rest of the Redeemers to find me," Tantalus explained. "But if the four of you were to attack the scouts instead, the Redeemers will know I am no longer working alone, and at the very least, they will pause to reassess the situation. That will afford us a bit more time to complete our search."

"'Our' search?" Lionel asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Time is running out, I'm afraid. We must find Extinction's essence quickly, so that we might bring it under our control before the Redeemers set the rest of their plans in motion," Tantalus said. As he spoke of Extinction, Morgan shuddered. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but something about Tantalus's expression was oddly sinister.

"Fine. How can we help you in your search?" Soren said.

Lionel looked up in alarm. "Wait! That's not fine at all! You truly wish to return Extinction to our world? Are you mad!?" he protested.

"My dear prince, the Redeemers already control thousands of eidolons. They have made inroads into each of the kingdoms of Tellius. Even Daein," Tantalus admonished gently. "They intend to bully the entire continent into submission. Their leader, Charon, is not a subtle man."

"Extinction killed thousands in his last rampage," Lionel argued. "I fail to see how dooming our people ourselves before the Redeemers can act is an adequate solution."

"Extinction will be controlled, as the phantom that brought you here to me was," Tantalus replied confidently.

"To be frank, that thought isn't as comfortable as you mean it to be," Lionel retorted. "What reason do we have to trust you?"

"Two reasons," Tantalus said. "Firstly, we share a common enemy that is a far greater threat than Extinction or I could be. Allow me to be equally frank – Extinction alone will not win my battle against the Redeemers. The dire eidolon is but another tool in our shared arsenal. And secondly, I imagine your understanding of Extinction's history is better than mine, as you allegedly lived through its reign of terror. Were you not there when Extinction was defeated through the combined might of Daein, Begnion, and Phoenicis? Just as I cannot defeat the Redeemers alone, I can hardly hope to pose a genuine threat to you and your allied kingdoms alone, Prince Daein."

"And what if…" Lionel began, clearly unconvinced.

"Enough," Soren interrupted. "Let's set the politics of this aside for the moment, shall we? You need each other, and neither of you have anything to gain by betraying the other. And you share a common enemy. Like it or not, I'd say you're allies by necessity."

Lionel's hard stare flickered slightly, and grudgingly, he extended a hand to Tantalus. "Fine," Lionel agreed, though he still sounded a bit suspicious. Morgan found herself quite impressed with Lionel's feigned reluctance; it was almost credible enough to make her forget that Lionel had agreed to this plan even before leaving Nevassa.

Tantalus shared none of the prince's distaste, and accepted the proffered handshake cordially. "Allies by necessity, perhaps, but in a cause befitting of us both," he proclaimed in a rather pompous manner.

"Much better. Why don't we return to the tasks at hand, then, before we get sidetracked again?" Soren said.


	10. Chapter 6

**~ Chapter 6 ~**

"Very well then. Let's start with the Redeemer scouts," Tantalus began. "The Redeemers have been searching for me ever since I left, but it wasn't until a few months ago that they finally made their way north."

"Do they know of your plans?" Morgan asked.

Tantalus shrugged. "Probably. Even if none of my former allies were quite as obsessive as I am when it comes to history, they almost certainly know that Extinction was defeated in these parts. Now that they have discovered my general whereabouts too, it's a simple, logical step to assume that I am here because of Extinction," Tantalus admitted. "However… truthfully, my intentions probably mean very little to them. It's rather cliché, I admit, but the Redeemers don't accept resignations."

"And yet, you claim that their scouts are no threat to you," Soren reminded.

"I have been careful, and even now they can't be entirely certain that I am here," Tantalus answered, smiling proudly. "Even if they were somehow able to find me out here, I can elude them easily enough. But that would leave them free to claim Extinction's essence for themselves."

"Which means Extinction would fall under their control instead," Priam said thoughtfully.

"Maybe," Tantalus said noncommittally. "It depends on whether there is a place in their plans for another dire eidolon. If not, they may simply prefer to hold onto the essence and prevent Extinction from returning."

"If they succeed, their armies will be nigh unstoppable," Soren summarized. "Very well. We will find these Redeemer scouts and defeat them, and in doing so, buy you more time for your search."

Tantalus nodded approvingly, before walking over to a nearby shelf and rummaging through a stack of old parchment. He returned to the table, and carefully unrolled what looked to be a roughly sketched map of the surrounding region. "The Redeemers ventured into the forest once already, descending upon a trading encampment and a small village," he explained, gesturing first at a marker near the southeast border, then at another marker to the west.

"So that's why Wilderness's Edge was deserted," Lionel realized. "The Redeemers must have scared off any visitors."

"They likely did more than scare them off," Tantalus said grimly, still indicating the small village on the map. "Silent Grove was utterly destroyed. The Redeemers are brutally efficient in cleaning up after themselves."

Lionel looked pained by the notion. "Why would the Redeemers care about Silent Grove? It's a small village in the middle of nowhere, practically. Self-sustaining and practically isolated from the rest of the world, as I remember it."

"Who knows?" Tantalus said with a shrug. "But the village was razed to the ground. Being isolated only works to the Redeemers' advantage; word of Silent Grove's fate won't reach Melior or Nevassa for quite some time."

"Did the Redeemers remain in the sacked village?" Soren asked, pushing the briefing forward.

"No," Tantalus said, shaking his head. "There are signs of a minor skirmish in Wilderness's Edge, probably fought by the merchants in Wilderness's Edge, or survivors from Silent Grove, perhaps. I missed the battle, but the Redeemers must have won the day, for I spotted them leaving the forest and traveling south, returning to their base of operations."

"In the Serenes Forest? Or all the way south in Begnion?" Soren asked, frowning.

"In what used to be Serenes Forest," Lionel guessed. "The northern part of the Serenes Forest was destroyed by Extinction centuries ago. Though technically, the land still belongs to Phoenicis, it is now populated mostly by Crimean and Begnion commoners.

"Correct. The Redeemers have a small fortress city to the east of Tergum. They call their home the Divine Citadel," Tantalus confirmed. "But not all of the Redeemers left; a group of their scouts remain in this region, and have established a small camp just south of the forest."

"Are they the ones responsible for sacking the forest village? Silent Grove?" Priam asked, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically hard edge.

"I don't believe so," Tantalus said somberly, shaking his head. "But what I do know is that Silent Grove isn't the first village to become… collateral damage. Even if the Redeemers at the camp aren't the raiders who attacked this particular village, I am certain they have partaken in their own share of death and destruction."

"Ever since Port Toha was destroyed, the Redeemers have grown brash and bloody handed. They do their best to hide any evidence of their passing, but the lack of a trail is proof enough, in a fashion," Lionel agreed.

Tantalus nodded. "The port where I met Soren, Priam, and Morgan is a perfect example of this. When the villagers first reported seeing eidolons in the area, I already suspected that the Redeemers had at last found their way to this region. A few days later, a few Redeemer soldiers passed through the port, which was attacked less than a week later," he said grimly.

"They tried to destroy the port entirely just because the villagers spotted a few of their soldiers and eidolons?" Morgan asked, aghast. Priam looked similarly disgusted.

"I told you. It is their way," Tantalus said bitterly. "It's half the reason I want their scouts eliminated. It's not hard to imagine the atrocities they'd commit in trying to find me, if left unchecked."

"How many of their soldiers are at their encampment?" Soren asked coolly. He alone seemed entirely unaffected by Tantalus's grim stories.

"It looked to be a single raiding party, which is typically twenty soldiers," Tantalus said. "Not all of the Redeemers are spirit charmers; their common soldiers are usually armed with ordinary steel weapons, although they do boast a few mages within their ranks."

"If they're ordinary soldiers, then that means we won't have to contend with any eidolons," Priam mused.

"Not necessarily," Tantalus corrected. "A spirit charmer is often sent to accompany the raiding parties. Occasionally, one of the Lodestars would be present, too."

"Lodestars?" Morgan asked, bewildered.

"A leadership title," Tantalus answered. "Every Lodestar is a spirit charmer, naturally. After my desertion, four Lodestars remained: Charon, Relic, Medea, and Harmony."

"Tell us more about them," Soren instructed. "It's bad enough that we will be outnumbered at least five-to-one. If we're going to carry out this attack successfully, we need every advantage we can get, and that includes being properly informed."

"Of course," Tantalus agreed. "Relic is rather old, and only rarely ventures into the field. When he does, he prefers to operate from the sidelines. Still, he is a gifted spell caster, armed with a rather unique weapon that I designed for him years ago. He can harness the elements easily, and employ them in both offensive and defensive manners. If you must fight him, you will want to catch him off guard, which is not an easy feat, admittedly," he began.

"Oh good. I've always enjoyed dueling other mages," Soren said sardonically. Morgan laughed uneasily, remembering her own encounters with enemy spell casters.

"Then you'd love to meet Medea," Tantalus said, chuckling slightly. "She's perhaps the most bitter, cruel, and vindictive person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. Despite her egotism and sadism, she is also incredibly skilled with light magic. Unlike Relic, she's quite direct, willingly placing herself in the center of any raid and relishing the savagery. I think, alone of the Lodestars, Medea actually enjoys 'erasing' the trails the Redeemers inevitably leave behind."

Priam muttered something indecipherable, and Morgan winced sympathetically, reading his expression easily enough. She hesitated, then rested a comforting hand gently on Priam's shoulder, who looked up at her in surprise. Upon seeing her reassuring, confident smile, Priam relaxed visibly, though his expression made his distaste towards the Redeemers quite clear.

Tantalus took no note of the silent exchange. "Then there's Harmony. Compared to Relic and Medea, she's positively mild. She's clever enough, I suppose. All spirit charmers are reasonably gifted with magic, thanks to their pact of spirit protection, but Harmony prefers using a sword most of the time. She's aloof and rather cold. Doesn't really take pride in her work like Medea or Relic, but that doesn't stop her from carrying out her orders," Tantalus continued.

"I see," Soren said thoughtfully. "And what about Charon?"

A shadow crossed Tantalus's expression. "Ambitious and ruthless are the first descriptions that come to mind. Unfortunately, he's also incredibly powerful. His control of magical energies is so complete that he can invoke anima magic without needing a tome or any other magical device. He's never seen without his personal great sword, a massive weapon which he is capable of wielding singlehandedly. If you happen to come across him, just run and hope to escape his notice entirely."

"Good enough," Soren said, abruptly rising to his feet. "Anything else we should know before we set out?"

"Right now?" Morgan asked, startled.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can find your friend and head home," Soren reminded. He turned back to Tantalus. "Well, Tantalus?"

"Just one last thing," Tantalus replied. "The Redeemers control phantoms as well as eidolons. Most of their phantoms take the form of suits of armor. Be wary of them, for they are far stronger than common soldiers."

"Duly noted," Soren said with a curt nod. With that, he strode purposefully toward the cave entrance without checking to see if his companions were following.

After exchanging confused looks with one another, Morgan, Priam, and Lionel all grabbed their belongings and started after their companion. Tantalus politely accompanied them to the entrance of the cave, where they found that Soren had slowed his pace just enough for them to catch up.

"I guess we'll see you later, then," Morgan said to Tantalus hesitantly. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," Tantalus corrected, smiling genially. "And good luck."

* * *

Morgan had expected Tantalus's phantom to lead them back to the forest paths, but when they exited the cave, the phantom was nowhere in sight. Before she could voice her concerns, however, Soren set off deliberately, without a word. It soon became apparent that Soren had memorized the twisting and winding route the phantom had led them down the night before.

Once Morgan was certain that Soren had the issue of navigation comfortably settled, she turned her attention to Priam, who was still oddly tense. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, and judging from his expression, his thoughts must have been quite unpleasant. Morgan wavered indecisively for several seconds before finally deciding that if Priam's strange behavior jeopardized their cover, then her questioning it could hardly make matters worse. "Is something wrong, Priam?" she asked quietly.

Priam fidgeted uncomfortably. "Not exactly," he said, keeping his voice equally low, as he glanced at Soren uncomfortably. Satisfied that Soren was too far to overhear, he continued. "But it's always disturbing to be reminded of just how cruel some people are."

Morgan shrugged. It wasn't a pleasant notion, but it was one she had come to terms with long ago. "Some of them don't mean to be. They're so caught up in their own lives, hopes, and dreams, that they lose sight of the world around them," she said in a sagely manner.

"And others just don't care to see it," Priam added, his expression hardening. As he spoke, he rested his hand comfortably on Ragnell's hilt. "They value power but dismiss the responsibility that accompanies it, at the expense of others."

"You know, you'd make a good Shepherd," Morgan said, with an approving nod.

"What does valuing human decency have to do with tending to sheep?" Priam asked, curiously.

"I don't mean an actual shepherd," Morgan corrected quickly.

"Ah, you were referring to Ylisse's Shepherds," Priam realized. "Perhaps. When I was much younger, I often heard of the prince's exploits along the roads of Ylisse. According to the stories, he started fighting alongside his knights when he was barely more than a teenager. I often wondered if one day I'd seek a course leading away from Azure Pyre, and find myself fighting beside him."

Morgan shrugged. "Uncle Chrom is pretty much stuck in Ylisstol these days, now that he's the exalt. I don't think he's been in a real fight since our battle against the fell dragon."

"You said your friend, Lucina, leads the Shepherds now, right?" Priam remembered. "I imagine our exalt found himself a worthy successor."

Morgan smiled sheepishly. She had done her best to explain her convoluted, time-travel and amnesia riddled background during their voyage, but as far as Priam and Soren knew, the only other person who had come back in time was her sister, Severa. "Actually… Lucina is Uncle Chrom's daughter," Morgan explained. "Future daughter, anyways. This world's Lucina is only six."

"More time-traveling shenanigans?" Priam asked with a faint smile.

"Time-travel?" Lionel echoed, confused. Morgan and Priam both flinched; without noticing, they had both stopped whispering a while ago.

Again, Priam glanced nervously ahead toward where Soren was still striding purposefully, leading the way through the forest. It seemed as if he was hesitant to share his thoughts with his mentor. Morgan, who was now well accustomed to Soren's derisive attitude toward idealism, couldn't really fault Priam for his reluctance.

At the same time, she felt Priam really had nothing to worry about. Either Soren wasn't listening at all, or more likely, the aloof mage was deliberately ignoring their conversation. She turned to Lionel, who was still looking at her, wearing a bemused expression. "Yeah. I don't understand it all myself, to be honest. But in our homeland, things went terribly wrong, and our goddess ended up sending several people back in time."

"Several? You only mentioned your sister before," Priam said. "How many of you were sent back?"

"Well… supposedly, she sent eleven of us back in time," Morgan admitted. "But that doesn't include me, since I also supposedly died in their timeline before they could send anyone back. And of the other eleven, I've only met seven… maybe eight."

Morgan's answer only added to Priam's confusion. "What do you mean you supposedly died?" he asked.

"And how could you have met _maybe_ eight of them?" Lionel added.

"I've been introduced to seven of them," Morgan clarified. "But I've also met a young man who seems to know Lucina and Severa, even though I've never seen them talking. He looks and acts a lot like one of the retired Shepherds; I bet he's really her son."

"And what about the whole dying thing?" Priam asked again.

Morgan shrugged. "No one really knows for sure. But they all thought I was dead, until they found me in this timeline without my memories. We kind of put it behind us once we realized we were probably never going to find a real answer."

Lionel laughed. "And I thought my mother's stories sounded outlandish," he said.

"You don't believe me?" Morgan asked, feigning a wounded expression. In truth, so much of her own past was wrapped in mystery that sometimes, even she had a hard time trying to reconcile what she knew. It was both intriguing and infuriating at the same time.

"Oh I do," Lionel reassured. "Tellius has its own bizarre happenings. I've heard of cursed contracts used to murder royal families and threaten entire kingdoms, and the goddess turning nearly every living creature to stone. And of course, the story of the herons is not one easily forgotten."

"What story?" Morgan asked curiously, for the stories of the Radiant Hero she had read mentioned very little about the herons.

Lionel's expression darkened significantly. "The Serenes Forest was once the home of the heron Laguz, and a healthy kingdom in its own right. Long ago, before I was even born, Begnion's apostle tried to reveal to her people that she was, in fact, branded. She was assassinated by her own senators, who then blamed the act upon the herons, despite the herons' pacifistic reputation."

"And people believed them?" Morgan asked, horrified, as Priam grimaced, already familiar with the story.

Lionel nodded grimly. "Begnion invaded Serenes Forest and murdered every heron they could find. Only a handful of the herons survived."

Morgan shuddered, remembering Micaiah's words to Soren back in the armory, about how only three of the heron tribe remained. It was hard to envision an entire peaceful race being driven to the brink of extinction by a single malicious rumor.

"So, you've lost your memories?" Lionel asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. When I woke up in this timeline, all I remembered is that I was hunting for treasure with my father in forgotten ruins," Morgan said. "I didn't even remember all that much about myself. I guess I was pretty lucky after all, since my father happened to be there."

"I bet that was a shock for him," Priam said, laughing. "How old were you in this timeline?"

"I wasn't even born yet," Morgan laughed. "My sister didn't warn him that he and Mom had another daughter, but he still caught on pretty quickly."

Just then, they stepped into a clearing. With a jolt, Morgan realized they were nowhere near the campsite where the phantom had initially accosted them. "Is this… Wilderness's Edge?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," Soren replied nonchalantly, before continuing south.

"Wait, Soren. The camp we are searching for is on the other side of the river," Lionel reminded.

"I know," Soren said brusquely. "Tantalus's map indicated there was a bridge south of here. It's a shorter route then traipsing along the northern route, and around Silent Grove.

"Good call," Morgan said, although she couldn't help but be slightly annoyed that Soren had not bothered to share his plan with anyone else.

A ghost of a smile crossed Soren's lips, and Morgan realized she hadn't hid her irritation as well as she had hoped. Still, Soren said nothing more on the matter, and they continued on south along the riverbank.

* * *

They came to the bridge later that afternoon. They were clear of the forest, but there were still several trees scattered here and there, and as they neared their destination, at Soren's insistence, they slowed their pace and kept themselves hidden as best they could.

Tantalus hadn't been sure of the exact location, but his estimate proved fairly accurate, and they came across the quiet camp just as evening was beginning to give way to night. Carefully concealed in a nearby copse of trees, Soren and Morgan watched the soldiers in black armor parade back and forth, chatting and enjoying their evening meal. Behind them, Priam was lost in the throes of meditation. Lionel had set off on his own, promising to keep out of sight as he scouted out the surrounding area.

After several hours, the Redeemers seemed to be retiring for the night, and Morgan began to grow impatient. "Soren, what's the plan now?" she asked.

"Well, what did you learn?" Soren prompted.

Morgan frowned, caught off-guard by the question. When they first settled in the copse they were hiding in, Soren had begun his observation routine immediately, without a word of explanation. Similarly, Priam, who obviously trusted in his mentor's ability to sum up a scenario, simple found a comfortable spot for himself and settled into a meditative pose. Morgan had given her own role in this little adventure some thought before deciding that redundancy couldn't hurt if the alternative was doing nothing, but she hadn't imagined that Soren would be interested. "Well… there's sixteen of them that I could see. They're all armored," she began. She glanced at Soren hesitantly.

Soren only nodded slightly, and indicated for her to continue.

"At least five of them were carrying swords. Their armor seems to be lighter, too. Four more were wearing the same armor but didn't have weapons visible, which means they likely also prefer to use swords, but see no need to carry their weapon at all times," Morgan reasoned, growing more confident as she spoke. "The rest were wearing heavier armor. I saw four carrying axes, but there were also three warhorses nearby. Mounted fighters tend to prefer lances to axes. I would guess that several of the soldiers wearing heavier armor use lances, and three of them are trained to fight from horseback."

"What about their leader?" Soren urged.

"I didn't see any apparent leader," Morgan admitted. "But from what I know, very few fighters are vigilant enough to willingly spend their entire day clad in armor if they can help it. Either their leader is among the soldiers, but doesn't stand out, or their leader instructed them to remain ready for action. If it's the latter, he commands their respect rather convincingly."

"Or fear," Soren agreed. "Anything else noteworthy?"

"I saw a suit of light armor propped against one of the wagons," Morgan said, after a moment's thought. She peered at the camp, and could still barely make out its form under the faint light of the stars above. "You can still see it if you look carefully. I think it's one of the phantoms that Tantalus warned us about; there's no reason for an extra suit of armor to be lying around if the soldiers are all fully armored, especially not out in the open instead of with their personal belongings."

Soren nodded. "What else?" he prompted, in a leading tone.

Morgan only barely kept herself from blurting her thoughts aloud. What else? How much else could Soren have expected her to learn from watching the camp from afar for a few hours? There was an awkward pause as Morgan stared absentmindedly at the camp, wondering what Soren was hinting at. Finally, after several tense seconds, she gave in. "That's all," she admitted, bracing herself for a lecture.

"Not bad," Soren said distantly. Morgan stared at him expectantly, but he remained silent, testing her patience rather severely.

"Well?" Morgan prompted, trying to keep her irritation from showing.

"Well what?" Soren asked.

"What else did you learn?" Morgan asked impatiently.

"I think you summed it all up pretty nicely," Soren said with a shrug. "There's a few soldiers less than what we were expecting. They have some cavalry, but not much, and nothing else out of the ordinary. Their leader is either currently away, or not very distinguishable. Probably the former."

"That's it?" Morgan asked with a frown. "You didn't learn anything else?"

"Nope," Soren said in an off-hand manner.

"Then what were you expecting me to say?" Morgan demanded.

"I wasn't 'expecting' you to say anything," Soren answered. "I just wanted to see how your observations compared to mine, and was curious as to whether you noticed anything that I missed. As it turns out, our conclusions were more or less the same."

Morgan only stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I wasn't aware that I was supposed to be administering a test of some sort," Soren said dryly. "And I was under the impression that I would be the last person you would ever want for a mentor," he added.

"Well… I…" Morgan stammered, thoroughly flummoxed.

"Relax, Morgan. He's just messing with you," Priam said quietly.

Morgan spun around, startled, for she hadn't even noticed that Priam had been paying her and Soren any attention. Priam's eyes were still closed, but the young warrior was smiling faintly. "He is?" Morgan asked, turning back to Soren for confirmation. "How do you know?"

"Because he's probably just as bored as we are, and his verbal quips speed the passage of time," Priam said.

"Time flows at a constant rate regardless of your state of action… or inaction," Soren said, rolling his eyes.

"I see what you mean," Morgan said, amused.

Soren groaned. "If you two are quite finished discussing the possibility of me being overcome by ennui, I believe we have a visitor," he said.

Morgan instinctively reached for her tome and looked around wildly, before noticing that Soren didn't seem alarmed in the slightest. "Soren?" she whispered. Soren said nothing, but a voice from the side of the copse allayed her fears.

"I'm back," Lionel said quietly, as he carefully stepped around the bushes. "Sorry to take so long. They have four soldiers keeping watch, and they seemed pretty restless. I had to wait for them to settle down a bit before slipping back out."

"Fine. What did you find?" Soren asked.

Lionel frowned. "I couldn't get an accurate count from my position, but there's definitely at least a dozen soldiers in the camp," he said. "There were many more tents than that, and it seems like this encampment is large enough to host at least twenty people, but it sounds like some of them are away right now."

"That makes our task a little bit easier," Soren said. "Although perhaps we should wait for them to return so that we might achieve a more complete victory."

Lionel shook his head immediately. "That's the bad news. The leader of this raiding party is among those currently away, and I overheard one of the soldiers referring to him as 'Lord Charon'."

"Charon," Morgan repeated hollowly, remembering Tantalus's dire warnings.

"Then I guess our timing is fortuitous," Priam said, trying to sound optimistic. Morgan thought she could hear a subtle undertone of disappointment in his voice, and grimaced, realizing that Priam probably hadn't been discouraged by Tantalus's description of Charon. He had probably been secretly hoping to face the Redeemers' mysterious leader head on.

"It seems so," Soren agreed. "The bulk of the soldiers are still here, but without their leader, it should be a far easier battle."

"I don't think it's that simple," Morgan put in, as she thought of another possibility. Soren looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and gestured for her to continue. "Why would Charon bring a raiding party with him, then leave most of them idle?"

"Smaller forces tend to move more quickly than larger ones," Priam guessed.

This raiding party isn't very large to begin with," Morgan countered. "And if he truly needed such a small and agile force, then there would be no reason to bring the rest of the raiding party in the first place."

"Unless he's using this encampment as a temporary base of some sort," Soren said slowly.

"Right," Morgan agreed. "I think Charon has some sort of magical transportation. Remember the warp powder I used to get to Azure Pyre, and that we used to reach Bright Crest?"

"Some way for him and a few scouts to move around quickly, but too limited to move his entire force," Soren said thoughtfully. "You might be right."

"So what does it all mean?" Priam asked impatiently, feeling slightly lost.

"It means Charon and the other soldiers could show up any minute," Soren explained.

"And it means Charon's probably trying to narrow down where Tantalus is, but hasn't found him quite yet," Morgan added. "He has to know Tantalus has phantoms of his own, which is part of the reason he has these soldiers and phantoms waiting nearby. The Redeemers may have eidolons waiting in the area, too."

Lionel stared at the quiet camp uneasily. "Should we back off and reconsider, then?" he asked.

"No," Soren said decisively. "If Morgan is right, then reinforcements are always going to post a threat. But for now, we hold every advantage we could hope for. We just have to carry out this attack as swiftly and efficiently as possible."

"And make sure we keep a course open for a quick retreat if needed," Morgan added. Her eyes brightened suddenly. "What if we can keep them from reaching their horses? It will weaken their mounted fighters, and we might be able to use them to escape if needed," she suggested.

"Maybe. Lionel, do you think you can sketch the layout of the encampment for us?" Soren asked.

Lionel nodded and grabbed a long branch lying nearby, found a clear patch of dirt, and began drawing his map, while verbally outlining the sentry positioning and patrol routes that he had observed. Before long, a plan began to take shape.

* * *

It was a fairly warm night, which made sitting by the campfire rather uncomfortable for the fully-armored soldiers. There were no complaints though, for each and every one of them knew that a little bit of discomfort would be the least of their problems if Lord Charon were to discover an unguarded encampment upon his return. The loyal Redeemers compromised by keeping their weapons in sight, even if not at hand, and by making frequent patrols throughout the campsite, as much to escape the heat of the flames as to keep up the pretense of vigilance.

But it was only a pretense, for the nearest inhabited village was over fifty miles away. They were at least ten miles from the nearest well-traveled road, and the phantoms they had encountered never strayed beyond the perimeter of the Snowflake Forest. That left boredom as their greatest enemy.

Or so they thought.

Three of the sentries remained by the campfire, two of them fully absorbed in a story being told by the third. None of them paid their fourth companion much heed when he stepped away, until a muffled crash alerted them that something could be amiss.

That was all the warning they had before Priam leapt into their midst. Ragnell arced through the air, releasing a devastating wave of force that blasted one soldier off the log he had been sitting on, shattering his ribs and stealing his breath.

One of the remaining soldiers yelped in fear as he scrambled for his sword. His companion managed to keep her wits about her, and grabbed her axe. "Attack!" she cried out, hoping to alert their sleeping comrades as she swept her axe forward defensively.

Ragnell caught her axe beneath the blade, and with a mighty twist, Priam cast the axe aside before bringing his sword down upon its disarmed wielder's head, crushing through her helmet and creasing her skull.

The last soldier had managed to retrieve his weapon, but in his state of panic, his attack was desperate and poorly aimed. Priam stepped away easily enough, and a second wave of force burst forth, throwing the soldier off his feet and nearly severing his arm. The soldier's agonized howls were silenced a moment later when Ragnell bored through his plate armor and found his heart.

Even as Priam finished disposing of the three sentries, the encampment seemed to burst into flickering and dancing flames. After many mishaps relating to her love of fire magic, Morgan knew all too well how flammable cloth tents could be. As soon as Priam had drawn the sentries' attention, Morgan fired off a series of carefully placed fireballs. The nearly silent camp was suddenly enveloped in a panicked uproar, punctuated by cries and screams loud enough to drown out the hungry crackling noise of the magical wildfire.

A blur of motion caught her attention, and Morgan spun in time to see a soldier burst forth from his tent. The man was only partially armored, but carried a long lance in a comfortable grip. Morgan loosed another fireball at him reflexively, as she reached for her sword. The lancer dodged her attack easily enough, but the spell had had its desired effect anyways, buying Morgan enough time to draw her own weapon. Eternity turned the lance's keen edge enough for Morgan to roll aside. As the lancer stepped back, searching for even footing after his first missed attack, Morgan lifted her tome once more.

With a gasp, the lancer swung his shield up, and braced his lance behind it defensively. He held the pose for several seconds, waiting for the killing flames to break against his shield, but when nothing happened, he lowered his guard, confused.

And then the fireball Morgan had lobbed high into the air came crashing down upon him, falling precisely between his helm and outstretched shield, burning his arms. The soldier howled in pain as his shield slipped from his grasp, and a second incendiary blast sent him tumbling silently to the ground.

A second soldier rushed Morgan from behind, seeing only a small, seemingly defensively mage. But Morgan hadn't been caught unaware, and spun to face him. As soon as she saw the soldier's heavy plate armor, she remembered Soren's description of her new light tome, and brought Thani forward instead.

Generally speaking, warriors clad in heavy metal armor were already extremely susceptible to magic, but Thani proved to be even stronger than Morgan had expected. When the spire of light faded away, the fallen soldier lay perfectly still, his armor shattered in several places.

Morgan lowered her tome and began searching around for her allies, forcing herself not to spare the dead soldier any further thought. The burning tents had served their purpose quite well, for she immediately spotted five dead Redeemers, each lying only a few feet from their tents. In their panic, none of them had had time to retrieve their armor, and some hadn't even collected their weapons. Each of them had been cleanly felled by a single, carefully placed arrow, though the Daein prince was still nowhere to be seen.

The young tactician then thought to check on Soren, who was supposed to be standing guard over the warhorses. A flurry of movement from one of the nearby supply carts changed her mind, as the suit of armor she and Soren had spotted earlier came to life.

"Soren will just have to take care of himself," Morgan muttered, as she turned to face the phantom.

* * *

"Mage! Take him!" one soldier cried, as he advanced upon the dark-robed man standing before him. The Redeemer brandished his lance menacingly as he closed in, though he remained wary.

Beside him, his partner advanced, equally confident with his sword held easily at his side. No Redeemer was unused to battling spell casters. Despite their quarry's comfortable stance, the mage appeared too young to have any real experience with battle.

Naturally, Soren was unalarmed by their confident, measured approach. He shot them a rather bored look, but just before the lancer could strike, Soren spun away in a graceful pirouette, firing off his spells as he went. Soren had predicted the lancer's evasive roll perfectly, and the first wind spell caught him mid-roll, throwing him into the air and the heavy lance aside. A second spell flung the man into the nearest tent, just as another soldier was emerging. Both soldiers toppled to the ground in an undignified heap.

The speed and precision of the obviously rehearsed motion caught the remaining Redeemer swordsman off guard, but the swordsman was too disciplined to hesitate, and instead rushed forward to punish the apparent opening. But again, Soren moved too fast, easily sidestepping the thrust and forcing the swordsman back with a quick spell.

Instead of retreating, as most mages would have, Soren then surprisingly advanced towards the soldier instead, further surprising his opponent. Soren swept his right arm, still holding his tome, back, and instead brandished a staff held in his left hand. The soldier stumbled away with a confused yelp, his gaze fixated on the head of the staff, unsure of the staff's nature.

Soren closed his eyes as he invoked the torch staff for a mere fraction of a second. His eyes then flickered open as the sudden flash of light faded away. The blinded swordsman cried out in pain, and flailed wildly in hopes of offering some semblance of defense. A razor sharp gust of wind shredded through his armor, putting an end to his futile efforts.

Without looking, Soren sent another blast of wind at the unfortunate lancer he had thrown aside earlier, who had only just untangled himself from the other soldier he had crashed into. The powerful spell finished both soldiers, as Soren turned toward the last clump of tents which he had toppled earlier with a powerful gust.

The last three soldiers managed to free themselves from the tangled mess, and immediately focused their attention on Soren, their nearest visible opponent. But before any of the three could advance, or do anything else, Soren easily blasted one aside, just as Priam barreled toward them.

Priam's intended target instinctively turned to face him, and the Redeemer's steel sword came up just in time to catch Ragnell's gleaming golden edge. The weaker weapon seemed to fold under the weight of Priam's strike, and a moment later, the steel sword gave a loud snap as it broke in two, and Ragnell plowed on through.

The last soldier, wanting no part of any battle against the dangerous swordsman standing before him, or the mysterious wind mage, turned and fled. But he only managed to get about five steps away before Lionel intercepted him, jumping out from behind one of the collapsed tents. The hapless Redeemer saw only a dark blur as the prince slammed into him and cleanly drove a dagger into his exposed throat.

Satisfied that the rout was complete, Soren surveyed the ravaged camp imperiously, inwardly surprised at how unprepared the soldiers had been. "Priam, Lionel, where's the phantom?" he demanded.

Before either of the two men could say a word, a cry for help from the far side of the encampment answered his question.

"Morgan!" Priam cried out in alarm, sprinting back toward where he had last seen their missing companion.


	11. Chapter 7

**~ Chapter 7 ~**

Morgan stepped away as soon as the phantom came to life. Tantalus hadn't told them much about phantoms in general, and she knew absolutely nothing about this opponent in particular, but she guessed that putting some distance between her and her mysterious enemy would probably work in her favor.

The phantom drew to its full height, but even then, it remained rather unimposing. It stood only slightly taller than Morgan, and was remarkably slender, making it quite obvious that there couldn't be an actual human beneath the thin, carefully layered whitish plates. Flaming, lifeless eyes of golden fire peered out eerily from the eye sockets of its skull-shaped visor as both of the phantom's gauntlets drifted to its side, each coming to a rest on the hilt of a sheathed blade.

Morgan wasn't about to let the opening slip away so easily. Before the phantom could draw its weapons, she brought Thani forward, and a blinding explosion of light struck the phantom, throwing it back several steps.

But the phantom rallied gamely, effortlessly shrugging off the devastating spell. The sound of its long, slender, and curved blades being unsheathed resonated impossibly loud over the din of battle.

Morgan grimaced as she recognized the weapons. They were similar to the swords favored by swordsmen originating from Chon'sin. Two of the former Shepherds, Queen Say'ri of Chon'sin and Lon'qu of Ferox, had favored such weapons, and both were incredibly skilled with the deadly blades. In the right hands, the curved edges were exceptionally effective in parrying, and turning successful parries into deadly precise counterattacks.

To make matters worse, the phantom had clearly been expertly designed for its weapons. Its joints were carefully rounded, offering it as free a range of motion as possible. Vaguely, Morgan remembered West-Ferox's ruler, Khan Basilio, mentioning that Lon'qu seemed to be of Chon'sin heritage. Given Lon'qu's exotic facial features, and his slender build that seemed characteristic of Chon'sin swordsmen, it seemed quite plausible.

Seeing that her first magical salvo had proved ineffective, Morgan drew her sword. Before she could move to attack, the phantom dived towards her with blinding speed, its blades surging forth at a carefully measured angles. The two exotic weapons closed in together as a pincer might have, too quick for Morgan to step away. Instead, the young tactician pressed ahead, sweeping Eternity outwards to send one blade spinning aside, and following it to escape the deflected weapon's sister blade. As she shuffled alongside the phantom, she extended one foot outwards, kicking at the phantom's thin chausses in a feeble attempt to upset her foe's balance.

To her surprise, the phantom was surprisingly light, and couldn't hold its ground nearly as well as she had anticipated. The phantom stumbled aside, and though it found its balance a split second later, the distraction was all Morgan needed to settle into a defensive posture of her own. The two scintillating, curved blades spun through the air with blinding speed and in perfect harmony, but with a carefully measured, efficient stroke, Morgan managed to deflect both weapons.

This time, Morgan released her grip on Eternity, throwing herself to the ground and tumbling away from the unnatural fiend. She had already abandoned any notion of prolonging this duel, knowing that when it came to swordplay, she was badly outmatched. She came out of her roll neatly despite the uneven dirt floor, with her light tome readied once more. Knowing that her thrown weapon could not distract her opponent for long, she quickly fired off another burst of light, this time aiming a little bit closer to put the spell between her and her opponent.

Rather than walking into the blast, the phantom proved its remarkable reflexes once more, carefully falling back a step before agilely dancing around the pillar of light. But Morgan had expected as much, and had been studying the phantoms footwork even as she released her first spell. The light spell had blinded her, but it mattered not – her second spell was already descending on the phantom as it tried to approach her from her left, forcing it to roll away. Her third spell connected squarely on the phantom as it dove aside, cutting off the evasive movement and plastering it to the ground.

"Got you!" Morgan proclaimed gleefully, as she cast her light tome aside, drawing her fire tome instead.

With a graceful flip, the phantom sailed back to its feet, regaining its balance immediately. But before it could charge again, a conjured, flaming sphere caught the phantom in the chest. Ravenous flames erupted all around the point of impact, immolating the monstrosity entirely. "Shrug _that_ off," Morgan taunted, as she reached down for her light tome.

The flames faded away, revealing the phantom standing in a rather odd posture, as if it had crumpled back a step before freezing rigidly. Then its helm tilted upward, revealing a partially-melted visor and the golden, swirling flames it had instead of eyes, peering out from the inky darkness. The unpleasant screech of metal scraping against metal sounded as the damaged phantom corrected its posture. A few small pieces of twisted metal fell aside, littering the scorched earth beneath its feet with charred and blackened debris, and it sprang forward again.

"I was just kidding!" Morgan protested feebly. Forced to abandon both her sword and light tome, she backed away frantically, firing off another fireball as she went. Despite the visible damage the phantom had sustained, it twisted away from her projectile easily enough and continued its undaunted approach.

Over the screech of metal scraping against metal, and the crackle of the hungry flames still devouring the Redeemer camp, Morgan heard the faint whisper of a bowstring being drawn. Instinctively, she threw herself to the ground before realizing that it was probably the Daein prince coming to her aid.

An arrow tipped with a metallic black arrowhead spun out from behind some of the Redeemers' supply carts, aimed not for the phantom, but for Morgan. The arrow soared harmlessly over the tactician's prone form, as a tall, wiry man emerged from behind the carts. This Redeemer was equipped rather differently from his companions, wearing a tailored leather brigandine instead of metal armor. His brigandine, as well as his long, hooded cloak were dyed black. The man had drawn back his hood, revealing his plainly trimmed brown hair and a wicked grin. The would-be assassin reached for a second arrow, but even as Morgan regained her footing, the phantom attacked once more, obstructing the assassin's line of fire.

With a shrug, the assassin loosed his arrow anyways. He was rather inept with the bow, and the arrow struck the phantom instead, but bounced harmlessly off the phantom's pauldron. "I guess I'll have to let the phantom take you, then," he said with a sigh, with mock disappointment.

Even with the assassin standing by uselessly, Morgan knew she was in serious trouble. Being caught within reach of the phantom would have been bad enough, but her tome was no substitute for her sword when it came to parrying a blade. "Priam! Soren! Help!" she cried out, hoping that one of her companions would be close enough to intercede. She loosed another fireball at the phantom as she sidestepped its blades yet again, but the phantom seemed unfazed. To make matters worse, the assassin was still waiting, grinning confidently.

Another idea presented itself. She lifted her tome high, feigning a strike from a higher vantage point. The phantom saw the opening and lunged forward, but Morgan had already skittered back. Seeing the phantom's blades extended, Morgan dove towards the phantom, rolling under the outreached swords. With one hand, she sent a blast of fire out, not at the phantom, but at the assassin. The Redeemer fired back reflexively, but was too late – Morgan's spell incinerated his arrow before catching him fully in the face.

Morgan didn't have time to admire her handiwork. Her roll had taken her precisely past her fallen sword, and even as the Redeemer assassin slumped to the ground, Morgan reclaimed Eternity in her left hand and only barely managed to execute her next parry.

Her carefully executed maneuver had been _almost_ perfect. She had managed to turn one of the phantom's blades aside at an angle to partially obscure the second, but the phantom managed to twist its arms in a distinctly inhuman manner, and its second sword glanced off Morgan's exposed left arm. Though her new robes had weathered the blow somewhat, she felt a painful sting and knew that she hadn't escaped unscathed, after all.

Fighting past the pain, Morgan scrambled away from the phantom, hoping desperately that her spell had at least left the Redeemer assassin incapacitated. When she squared off with the phantom once more, with several long paces separating her from her opponent, she was relieved to see the fallen Redeemer still rolling about frantically, trying to extinguish the flames that still clung relentlessly to his cloak.

The phantom, now crackling with small flickers of black lightning, continued its methodical, single-minded approach, as if it had not even noticed its ally's plight.

"Just die already!" Morgan cried out in exasperation, as she drew her tome and sent forth another furious barrage of fireballs.

The phantom twisted away from her first few spells, but the magical flurry was simply too fast. Fireball after fireball connected, pummeling the resilient creature repeatedly. The phantom finally gave up trying to avoid Morgan's spells, and brought its thin, wiry arms up in a cross, as if hoping to shield itself from the flames. The defensive posture proved futile, as the intense flames began melting the whitish metal, twisting and blackening the phantom's damaged gauntlets and bracers.

And then, out of nowhere, a wave of energy rippled through the air, slamming into the phantom from behind. As the wounded phantom staggered aside, Priam rushed forward and followed up his initial attack with a forceful, downward chop, and Ragnell bit deep into the phantom's right pauldron with a loud crunching noise. Morgan held her next spell, not wanting to accidentally hit her friend.

In contrast, Lionel didn't hesitate whatsoever. As he came rushing towards them, he snapped off two quick shots, sending two arrows neatly past Priam, burying them in the phantom's damaged breastplate.

The phantom only clambered to its feet once more. Priam and Lionel both gasped in surprise, with Priam diving aside only moments before the phantom's killing swords could strike at him. Lionel fired off another arrow, but this time, the phantom's sword spun outward, catching and deflecting his shot.

"Some can't wait to die," Soren muttered, announcing his own arrival. Though he didn't speak loudly, his voice carried and he was easily heard by his companions. A howling gale then spiraled forth, deafening everyone nearby, and lifting the phantom several feet into the air. The helpless phantom flailed uselessly as it was launched over Morgan's head, and crashed into the scorched remains of a nearby tent a second later.

Morgan, who had taken advantage of the distraction to retrieve her light tome, decided against waiting to see if the phantom was really destroyed, and dropped another shining plume of light upon her hapless foe. The phantom shuddered painfully, then fell apart in a flash of golden fire. The young tactician stared at the fallen pieces of armor for several seconds, holding her breath. Finally convinced that the phantom was finally beaten, she let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

Priam was still gaping at the fallen phantom. "The Redeemers can make monsters like this?" he sputtered in disbelief.

"It's the first time I've seen anything like it," Lionel admitted, as he, too, eyed the thoroughly shattered pieces of armor cautiously. "Honestly, I hope it'll be the last… hold!" Lionel cried, as he spotted a sudden flurry of movement nearby.

A short distance away, the fallen Redeemer assassin had leapt to his feet, his bow abandoned. Ignoring the prince, he drew a throwing knife from his belt and sent it spinning through the air wildly, hoping to distract his foes long enough to make his escape. Lionel retaliated in a far more accurate manner, and an arrow tore through the Redeemer's shoulder.

"Yield!" Lionel demanded. Priam drew his sword too and brandished it threateningly. Morgan held her light tome up as well, even as she tried to decide how best to disarm and capture their injured foe.

Distracted as she was, she didn't notice when Soren silently slipped her fire tome off of its hook on her weapons belt. Sharing none of Morgan's hesitation, Soren calmly immolated the assassin.

"Don't count on it," Soren said coolly, ignoring Morgan's sputtering protests as he casually returned her tome. "The Redeemers must have invested considerable time and effort in designing such elaborate shells for their phantoms. I doubt they would have used the design only once or twice."

Morgan grimaced as she realized Soren had made the right decision. They didn't have time to sit around interrogating the Redeemer, nor could they afford to slow their return north in dragging a captive soldier in their wake. Letting the assassin escape was completely out of the question, too.

"The war Tantalus spoke of could prove catastrophic if they truly command entire armies of these phantoms," Lionel remarked uneasily.

Soren only shrugged. "I'm afraid that's your problem, Prince. I don't intend to be here to see it, if it does somehow come to fruition. We should be on our way."

"What about this… mess?" Priam asked, fumbling a bit in his search for the right word. His gaze lingered upon the dead Redeemers.

"Leave them for the crows. We don't have time for grave digging. The rest of the Redeemers will return sooner or later, and I would rather not test their leader's prowess, if this construct is any indication of his power," Soren reminded grimly.

* * *

In their haste to be away from the encampment, the weary party set a brisk pace in retracing their steps to the east. They stopped only briefly when they reached the river, where Soren quickly tended to Morgan's injured arm. Then they hurried back to the north, to the Snowflake Forest and Wilderness's Edge.

To their surprise, the settlement was no longer deserted. At first, it looked unchanged from when they had last past through, and they paid it very little attention as they made their way through, with Soren leading the way back to the trail that would take them to Tantalus's cave.

"Prince Lionel," a mellow voice called out to them politely. Startled, all four of them turned to see a middle-aged man with silvery-blue hair and tanned skin standing near one of the empty, abandoned tents. He was clad in a dark brown tunic, and wore a long white cape. Both garments were quite worn, as was the small traveling pouch the man carried.

Lionel nodded stiffly, apparently recognizing the man. His expression made his confusion clear, though, and the prince seemed unsure of how to manage this unexpected encounter.

Meanwhile, the man turned to Soren, and his eyes narrowed curiously. After a brief pause, his expression became one of complete surprise. "Soren!?"

Morgan and Priam exchanged surprised looks. Soren, on the other hand, was unconcerned. "Nasir," he greeted coolly, apparently recognizing the strange man.

_Laguz_, Morgan corrected herself mentally, realizing that for this man and Soren to recognize each other, the man must be far older than he appeared.

Nasir broke into a wide smile. "Soren! It has been far too long, my old friend!"

"Not long enough," Soren said grimly, clearly not sharing Nasir's enthusiasm. At first, Morgan attributed it to Soren's naturally churlish demeanor, or to his roleplaying to support their current ploy, but there was a hint of genuine bitterness in Soren's tone that seemed oddly disconcerting. "Why are you here, Nasir? Are you here to meddle in affairs that don't concern you once more? To ingratiate yourself to others before plunging a dagger in their backs?"

Morgan turned to Soren, shocked, but Soren ignored her easily. Nervously, Morgan turned to Priam, and noticed that he, too, seemed surprised by the sudden display of hostility.

Nasir, too, was surprised, though he also looked a bit uncomfortable. "You speak of a distant past, Soren, and of crimes that have long since been confessed to and forgiven. And you know of my reasons, too."

Soren nodded agreeably. "I know, but care little," Soren admitted, his voice still carrying an unmistakably sharp edge. "Just as I care little for your presence here, save to ensure that you stay out of our way."

"Of course I would not seek to hinder you," Nasir protested immediately, though he was now eyeing Soren suspiciously. Morgan silently remembered thinking that the Soren she knew could be a very different person from the one that had left Tellius centuries ago. Nasir's doubts seemed to confirm Morgan's guess. "We were friends once, were we not?" Nasir continued, apparently trying to keep the conversation friendly.

"Allies," Soren corrected pedantically. "And even then, our alliance was tentative at best, was it not? I seem to recall you fighting by your King Dheginsea, trying to thwart us as we ascended the Tower of Guidance."

"I had no choice," Nasir argued feebly, as he shook his head. "I was honor bound to serve my king."

"Excuses," Soren said dismissively. "That's all you Laguz could ever offer. Stubborn pride and pathetic excuses."

"Soren," Priam gasped quietly, shocked by the blatantly racist remark. Morgan, too, looked at Soren in confusion. She remembered briefly joking that Soren would be playing the part of a "bitter, old man" before they left Daein, but his attitude was far colder than she could have expected. The worst of it was, from his surprisingly heated and emotional tone, she wasn't even entirely sure it was all an act anymore.

Nasir looked naturally hurt, and seemed to share their surprise at the venomous declaration. "Soren, what happened to you?" he whispered softly. "If there was anything to be truly gained from our trials against the goddess, it was our newfound tolerance of one another, and the mutual respect the Beorc and the Laguz found."

"Why do you care now, Nasir? You already know what I am. Destined to watch the world pass me by. Damned to remain idle as what joy I could find departed this world for the void. Doomed to drift along, powerless against the ways of our world," Soren remarked, in a chilling tone. "But to you and your kind, that's the way of life, is it not? You watch the world as detached observers. You meddle only when it suits your own needs. When Prince Rajaion was taken by wretched King Ashnard, you had no qualms in betraying our trust and endangering all of Tellius, but where was Goldoa when we branded were cast out? Where was Goldoa when the Laguz willingly treated us as filth, threatening and even killing us, simply because we shared only _half_ of their heritage?"

"You speak of mistakes we have long since admitted! Mistakes of a different era!" Nasir protested. "You alone cling to the past, Soren!"

Soren smiled, a haunting look that did little to set Nasir at ease. "I admit it," Soren said calmly. "I do not belong in this time, nor do I belong in your world. But don't worry. We will find what we came for, and we will be on our way soon enough."

"At least tell me what you are searching for," Nasir pleaded. "Perhaps I could help you."

Morgan could see the desperation and shame etched into Nasir's face, and was finally beginning to understand. Soren wasn't acting, after all. The carefully concealed pain seemed all too real now, and it seemed there was some truth in Soren's scathing accusations, given the obvious guilt and sympathy in Nasir's pained expression.

"We don't need your help, Nasir_," _Soren said snidely, dismissing Nasir's offer without a thought. "We will tend to our own affairs."

Nasir seemed insistent on offering what he could, anyways. "You must be careful. I seek a man named Tantalus, who I believe to be in this region. He's tampering with extremely dangerous magic, which could threaten the lives of tens of thousands."

At that remark, Morgan, Priam, and Lionel all fidgeted uncomfortably. The last thing any of them wanted was to get into a fight with Nasir, but Nasir seemed plainly opposed to Tantalus's scheme. Unfortunately, it left them in a rather awkward position, especially if Tantalus was watching.

Their discomfort did not escape Nasir's attention, though, and Nasir glanced at Morgan, and then Priam. His eyes came to a rest upon Ragnell, which Priam still held ready. "Ragnell…" Nasir whispered in recognition. He looked up, his gaze meeting Priam's. "Then you are…"

"We have met your Tantalus," Soren said flatly, drawing Nasir's attention, and eliciting a disbelieving stare from each of his companions. Morgan almost burst into protest, for with that simple statement, Soren had likely dismissed any chance of this encounter ending peacefully. But the damage was done.

"Where?" Nasir urged. "I have to find him and stop him before it's too late!"

"You will do no such thing," Soren replied.

Nasir understood. "You're working for Tantalus," Nasir stated more than asked. "You're helping him search for Extinction's essence."

Soren nodded calmly, and a flurry of mixed emotions made its way across Nasir's face. "Why, Soren!?" Nasir finally demanded. "Why would you possibly fall in with someone like Tantalus?"

"He has the power to help us," Soren said, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

"But if he succeeds, he will bring death and destruction upon thousands!" Nasir argued. "You can't do this, Soren!"

Soren chuckled sardonically. "People bring death and destruction upon themselves all the time," he pointed out cruelly.

"No. I won't let you do this," Nasir argued. "I can't allow it."

Morgan found herself torn. She was tempted to cast their plan aside, for she still didn't want this encounter to come to blows. She didn't know Nasir too well, but Nasir did not seem like an evil man, no matter Soren's feelings on the encounter. But even as she reached for Soren's shoulder, a gesture to hopefully rein him in, she hesitated, searching for the right words.

Soren, on the other hand, didn't hesitate in the slightest.

A powerful wind spell grasped Nasir and flung him through the air, slamming him into a nearby tree.

"Soren!" Morgan cried out in protest, but her voice was almost entirely drowned out by the howling winds. The winds died away, but before any of them could speak further, Nasir let out an angry, strangled cry.

The man was gone, replaced by a fierce, white-scaled dragon that towered over the four of them. All but Soren shrank back instinctively, awed by the fearsome spectacle. "Enough of this!" Nasir roared.

For a fleeting moment, Morgan thought they were all about to die. This was a _dragon_ standing before them. She had known three Manaketes before, and any of them could hold their own against even the fiercest human warriors, yet Nasir was larger than the three of them combined.

But Nasir had only hoped to cow them into submission, and Soren, who had obviously known of Nasir's nature, was unimpressed. A brutal wave of wind magic pummeled Nasir, who recoiled in pain. The relentless barrage continued for several seconds, shearing off some of the proud white dragon's scales. Nasir's glacier eyes flashed dangerously, and his head reared back as if preparing to unleash is potent, devastating breath weapon. But he had realized the danger too late, and couldn't gather his strength.

Mighty as the white dragon appeared, Nasir was thoroughly beaten. But Soren wasn't finished, and another powerful gale slammed into the dragon, even as he tried to retreat.

Morgan could see the pain, fear, and strangely enough, acceptance, in the white dragon's noble eyes. "Stop!" she cried, recognizing that there was no more fight left in the Laguz. "Soren, stop! You're going to kill him!" She lifted her own tome, silently wondering if she could stop Soren in time should Soren refuse.

But Soren did stop, and the magical assault came to an abrupt halt. "Not necessarily," Soren said flippantly, as if he was simply commenting on something as mundane as the weather. "That wouldn't do us much good, anyways."

Nasir slumped back and reverted to his human shape. His weathered skin had suffered many cuts, and his face had been bloodied. Though his clothing was mostly unharmed, streaks of blood stained Nasir's cloak, showing the extent of the Laguz's wounds.

Morgan reached for a staff, but stopped when she saw Soren step forth instead. But Soren made no move to heal the wounded man, and instead, stared Nasir in the eyes, matching Nasir's pleading look with a mask of pure hatred. "I know you're going to run off and tell your king about this. But it doesn't really bother me, because by the time you and yours make it back here, our work will be finished. We'll be gone from your land, hopefully never to return."

"Soren, please," Nasir gasped. Morgan winced and gripped her staff tightly, as she realized that her earlier statement had been accurate, after all. If the brutal wounds Soren had inflicted upon the Laguz weren't fatal, they certainly would be if left untreated.

"Farewell, Nasir," was Soren's only reply, as the wind mage walked away, his face grimly unemotional once more.

Priam and Lionel both looked to be at a complete loss as to what to do, but Soren ignored them and started down the trail. The two of them glanced at Morgan briefly, before turning to follow Soren away from the gruesome scene.

But Morgan had had enough. If this was going to put their scheme at risk, so be it. She invoked her long-ranged healing staff, but rushed to Nasir's side anyways, hoping she wasn't too late.

Nasir's eyes opened a moment later, and he shot her a grateful, but surprised look. Morgan smiled sympathetically, but before she could say anything, Soren's voice rang out once more.

"Morgan!" Soren barked impatiently.

Morgan turned around and shot him a defiant look. "I'm coming," she replied. She turned to the Laguz one last time, though, before she left. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Nasir, before hurrying off after Soren and wondering what would become of their plans now.

* * *

Soren said nothing when Morgan caught up to them. Priam and Lionel, too, both looked as if they were trying to put the painful encounter behind them, though they did seem relieved and grateful for Morgan's actions. Still, they said nothing, and at first, Morgan took it to mean she hadn't caused any irreversible damage after all.

Not that she really cared if she had or not. Soren had simply gone too far, to Morgan's thinking. While his behavior was fitting for the façade he had chosen, the entire encounter was overboard, and wholly unnecessary. She shot Soren an angry glare, which Soren ignored easily enough. That only infuriated Morgan further, but the reasonable, tactician side of her mind won over, persuading her to at least remain quiet on the subject until she had a better grasp on their direction, and her own emotions.

"We'll talk later," Soren said calmly, reading her expression easily and echoing her thoughts.

Morgan only nodded stiffly, and they set off at a much slower pace. After a short time, Lionel set off, mumbling something about ensuring they weren't being followed and promising to follow. Soren didn't even bother to acknowledge the prince, and Morgan and Priam only met his stare briefly before the prince disappeared into the thick woods around them.

* * *

They stopped early in the afternoon for some well-needed rest, as the fatigue from the battle they had fought the night before was beginning to take its toll. Priam retired quickly to his tent after grabbing a quick bite to eat, and Lionel took his meal with him as he went for a walk in the surrounding woods. "I guess we each deal with uncertainty in our own way," Morgan mumbled ruefully.

"Uncertainty? Don't tell me you are harboring doubts now. It is _your_ friend we're searching for, after all," Soren said dryly upon overhearing her.

Morgan glared at him. "Yes. I came here to find my friend. I don't mind trying to stop to the Redeemers' schemes, either," she said, choosing her words carefully. "But none of that requires nearly killing an innocent man who only offered to help us!"

"Innocent?" Soren scoffed.

"Yes, innocent," Morgan said defiantly. "Or are you still angry about all those terrible things you say the Laguz did centuries ago?"

"Hardly," Soren said, meeting her angry stare calmly. "But Nasir is rather fond of his little secrets, and I have no interest in playing his games."

"Little secrets?" Morgan echoed, frowning. "Like what?"

"If I knew, they wouldn't be secret, would they?" Soren said irritably. "But for starters, how does Nasir even know about Tantalus and his goals? Remember our audience with Queen Micaiah. She hadn't even heard of Tantalus."

That gave Morgan a pause. "I hadn't thought about that," Morgan admitted reluctantly, after thinking it over. "Are you saying Nasir might be working for the Redeemers?"

"Nothing of the sort," Soren corrected. "Contrary to the old saying, the enemy of your enemy is not always your friend. Nasir could very well have been investigating the Redeemers when he learned of Tantalus. But we can't know that for certain, can we?"

"We could have tried asking him," Morgan said, a bit of her anger returning.

"Because he wouldn't lie to us, right?" Soren said, with a short, harsh burst of laughter. "Morgan, you know of Nasir, even though you've never heard his name before today, I imagine."

"I do?" Morgan asked, surprised.

"You remember the story of Mad King Ashnard's war, do you not?" Soren asked. "The Fire Emblem was stolen…"

"By a Daein spy, not long before the final battle of the war," Morgan interrupted impatiently. "What does that have to do with Nasir?"

"Nasir was the Daein spy who stole the Fire Emblem," Soren stated.

"What!?" Morgan asked, flabbergasted.

"I didn't mention him by name. There was no need to include every last detail in retelling Ike's story," Soren said with a shrug. "We chartered Nasir's ship for our voyage from Crimea to Begnion, and he accompanied us during our campaign. He stole the medallion from Ike's younger sister and turned it over to King Ashnard in hopes of protecting his granddaughter, who King Ashnard had forced into servitude."

Morgan's anger deflated as she remembered the accusations Soren had made earlier against the Laguz. "Who's Prince Rajaion?" she asked, in a softer tone.

"He was the prince of Goldoa, Nasir's granddaughter's fiancé," Soren explained. "He was kidnapped by King Ashnard. One of Ashnard's servants transformed Rajaion into a feral Laguz, warping his mind and keeping him permanently in his dragon shape. He served as Ashnard's mount."

"Nasir stole the Fire Emblem to try to save his granddaughter's fiancé," Morgan guessed.

"Who knows?" Soren shrugged. "Maybe it was to save Rajaion, or maybe it was to save Ena, who had indentured herself to King Ashnard in hopes of finding some way to save her fiancé herself. In truth, his actions weren't as reckless as we believed at the time. Nasir knew that merely owning the Fire Emblem wasn't enough to unleash Yune. But it would've been nice if he thought to inform us of that little detail. Not to mention, the battle was nearly lost when King Ashnard touched the medallion and grew far stronger, losing much of his sanity in the process."

Morgan cringed. "Fine," she conceded. "Maybe we couldn't have trusted him. But I still think we could have just sent him away. You provoked him," she accused.

"I did," Soren admitted. "I don't hate the Laguz. Not anymore. I won't claim to be fond of them, though, and the insufferable dragons are by far the worst. They were content to hide away in their corner of the continent while the rest of Tellius was consumed by war. Then they emerged from their metaphorical shell, standing by the goddess even as she threatened to bring a permanent end to our world. Nasir was there that day, standing beside his kin and king."

"So Nasir was right. You still hold a grudge for what he and his people did centuries ago," Morgan said distastefully.

"Hardly. I just didn't want to waste time on idle banter with someone I have no reason to trust," Soren said. "Dragons can be rather arrogant…"

"Sounds like someone else I know," Morgan interrupted with a huff.

"And they're used to getting their way," Soren continued, as if Morgan hadn't spoken. "I wasn't about to waste my time trying to deceive him, and he wasn't about to let us walk away uncontested after we told him the truth of our presence here."

"Still, you had him beaten cleanly. You didn't have to be so brutal," Morgan said with a sigh.

"Not brutal, but efficient," Soren corrected easily. "He's a dragon, Morgan. Holding back against a dragon Laguz isn't just unwise, it's outright suicidal."

"But…" Morgan began, but Soren cut her off quickly.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm glad you went back to help him," Soren said.

"You are?" Morgan asked, confused, and more than a little bit annoyed. "Then why…"

"I might not like Nasir, but neither do I want him dead," Soren clarified. "I meant it when I told Nasir that we have nothing to fear from him. With a Laguz gem, he might be able to make it home to Goldoa in less than a week, though such an effort would tax him thoroughly even if he weren't injured."

"Laguz gem?" Morgan asked wonderingly.

"Most Laguz cannot remain transformed indefinitely," Soren said. "A Laguz gem is a rare gemstone that somehow synergizes with a Laguz's biorhythm. Once activated, the gem crumbles to dust, but the Laguz remains in his transformed state until he willingly reverts."

"That seems pretty useful," Morgan remarked.

"Yes. They are quite rare, but I expect Nasir was probably carrying one. If not, he likely has contacts all over the continent, and may be able to find one in short order," Soren said darkly. "Still, Goldoa is a week's flight from here. We should have at least two weeks to finish our work here with Tantalus if he reaches out to his people for help."

"What if Nasir doesn't go to Goldoa?" Morgan asked, recalling that Goldoa was indeed nearly on the other side of the continent. "Maybe he knows where his missing king is. Or maybe he has friends in other kingdoms who he could go to for help."

Soren shrugged. "You're right. I suspect Nasir knows exactly where King Goldoa is. Thankfully, it doesn't really matter. King Goldoa must be traveling with a small entourage, seeing that his whereabouts remain unknown to the rest of Tellius. Nasir will need more help than that. Begnion and Phoenicis are quite far, too, and if he goes to Daein, Micaiah will keep him from interfering long enough for us to finish our work here. If he goes to Crimea, it will still take him several days to reach Melior. Even then, it will still give us at least a week."

"You really did think this through," Morgan finally conceded unhappily.

Soren took the offhand compliment in stride. "You seem displeased," he noticed.

Morgan glared at him. "I still don't like the way you 'handled' Nasir," she informed him defiantly. A ghost of a smile flitted across Soren's face, causing Morgan to roll her eyes, annoyed that Soren apparently found her empathy amusing.

"You remind me of an old friend, Morgan," Soren said, still smiling faintly. Morgan glanced at him, startled, for the wistful tone was not one she expected to hear from him. "Centuries ago, he was charged with leading an army into what looked to be an extremely difficult campaign. Do you know what a floodgate is?"

"I think so," Morgan said, thinking back to the many afternoons she had spent in her father's library. "I read that in some parts of Ferox, the rivers rise too high in the spring during the thaw. The Feroxi designed their dams so that the flow of water could be somewhat controlled."

Soren nodded. "Our enemies sought to impede our approach, and opened their floodgates to do so, intentionally causing a massive flood and effectively turning the local fields into swampland. We managed to defeat the opposing general and close the gate, allowing the water to recede, but there was no reversing the damage to the fields and nearby villages," Soren explained.

"That's awful!" Morgan said. "They endangered the livelihoods of their own people just to slow down your army?"

"Yes," Soren said. "After the battle was won, our inexperienced general ordered us to distribute a portion of our own supplies among the locals. Now there was a sound tactical decision if there ever was one: give away a major portion of your provisions at the beginning of your campaign."

"It obviously wasn't about strategy," Morgan said defensively. Silently, she knew Soren's observation was on point. If it had been her leading this army, she probably would have done the same thing, however unwise it seemed. "What did you say when he gave the order?"

"I called him an idiot," Soren said simply. "Though it didn't stop me from following him through the rest of our trials, and to the ends of the world after."

"You're talking about Ike, aren't you?" Morgan realized. "The Radiant Hero."

She felt slightly foolish for not realizing it sooner, for the story of a battle amidst flooded fields was part of the legend of the Radiant Hero told in Ylisse. That particular chapter had focused more upon a wyvern knight accompanying the Greil Mercenaries being forced to confront her own father. Soren's account of the battle seemed a little bit less dramatic than the stories, though.

Morgan wondered briefly if the more commonly told story about the wyvern knight was true, too, but before she could ask, Soren sighed morosely. "I imagine he'd be pretty cross with me, too, for how I dealt with Nasir back there," Soren said quietly, speaking to himself. "You never stopped considering the meddling old fool a friend, did you, Ike?"

Morgan didn't know what to say to that, and only watched silently as Soren went back to stoking the campfire. It seemed the old tactician's strangely conversational mood was short-lived, after all.

* * *

They didn't break the camp until the following morning. When they did, it seemed like a full night's rest had done much in restoring their spirits. Lionel still seemed timid around Soren, but Priam was back to his gnomic, contemplative self.

During their trek away from Tantalus's home, Morgan had done her best to memorize their route, but after only a few twists and turns along the winding forest path, she was thoroughly lost and left with no recourse but to follow Soren's lead.

After an hour of what felt like aimless meandering, Morgan amused herself with the thought that perhaps Soren was lost, too. But he wasn't, and Soren's sense of direction proved to be impeccable once again, as he led them directly to the cave at the edge of the forest.

This time, Tantalus was idly waiting for them in front of the cavern. "Well done," he congratulated, as soon as he saw his guests returning to his hidden sanctuary.

"You were watching?" Soren asked, sounding mildly surprised and impressed. "How did you manage that?"

"I have my ways," Tantalus said with a conspiratorial smile. "Though I'm sorry to say I could not witness your battle with the Redeemers first hand. Still, I can imagine the carnage easily enough, after your brilliant display against that meddling Laguz."

Morgan, Priam, and Lionel all shifted uneasily and glanced at one another. Priam and Lionel hadn't fully put their encounter with Nasir behind them, yet. Neither had Morgan, for that matter, but that was not the source of her discomfort. Tantalus's comment had confirmed their earliest suspicions – the old spirit charmer must have been capable of spying on them, somehow. Morgan couldn't help but wonder if they had really fooled Tantalus as thoroughly as they had hoped.

At least Tantalus didn't seem capable of reading minds. "I'm glad you sent him away relatively unharmed. There is far too much blood on my hands already," Tantalus admitted quietly, aiming his words at Morgan.

"Relatively unharmed is hardly a fitting description," Soren said. "But he will live."

Tantalus nodded solemnly. "Then we must consider the other implications of the dragon Laguz involving themselves in our predicament. Goldoa has been silent for quite some time, watching distantly as the Redeemers' schemes unfold," Tantalus said.

"But they're beginning to understand the threat of the Redeemers, and perhaps the danger of our own course," Soren agreed.

"Indeed. They do not truly comprehend the enemy closing in from the shadows, even as we speak," Tantalus said. "While it is true that our undertaking is not without danger, it _is_ necessary. But we cannot expect our future allies to see that… at least, not until it is too late."

"Tantalus, are you certain you can control Extinction?" Morgan asked, choosing her words carefully and feigning a bit of hesitation. It was a bit of a risk hinting at her doubts, but if Tantalus was as paranoid as Morgan suspected him to be, the former Redeemer would indubitably find perfect compliance even more suspicious.

"I am positive," Tantalus promised. "But I'm afraid time is running out."

"Then we should carry on with your plan, quickly," Lionel said, speaking up for the first time since returning to Tantalus's hideout. "What do you need us to do next?"

Tantalus flashed them a crooked smile. "I'm afraid this is where things may get a little… tedious," he admitted.


	12. Part Three: Champion

**~ Part Three ~**

**Champion**

_Was it selfish of me to allow Priam and Soren to accompany me here to Tellius?_

_Alone, this adventure would have taken a markedly different path, but even following Soren's guidance, I can't be certain whether I am really any closer to finding Owain. Where would I be now if I came here alone? Seeking help in Crimea, where I first sighted land? Or would I even have made it to Tellius without Soren leading the way?_

_I don't know. I didn't know when I set out, and as soon as I realized that fact, I readily admitted to myself that I could use their help. That is why I was so glad when Priam offered to join me in my quest, and why I raised no real objections when Soren invited himself, too, despite not liking him very much when we first met._

_But I didn't ask them to follow me. I didn't think it was right for me to impose upon them, or anyone else, for that matter. And even now, despite the fact that Tellius remains a place of great mystery to me, I think I would have found my way eventually. And I know now that Soren, as gruff and heartless as he seems, would never have deliberately sent me astray._

_It's quite strange, but for all of Tellius's differences, and in spite of the thousands of miles separating me from my home, I don't truly feel lost. It's hard to explain. Everything just feels comfortably familiar, even if the world is nothing like that which I have known._

_Maybe it has to do with losing my memories. The world I have known has changed so much in the past five years, the only five years of my life that I can remember. I guess, after that, I've learned not to be afraid of the unknown._

_I can't be sure of it, but I think I would have been able to take care of myself out here._

_I still don't really understand why Soren decided to accompany me here. This might be his birthplace, but he's made it perfectly clear that he feels no attachment to his homeland. He might have been the one with the foresight to try to keep our doubts sequestered, all so that we'd have the opportunity to disrupt Tantalus's schemes, but it seems as if the potentially dire consequences don't concern him at all._

_Or maybe the lack of hesitation and doubt is simply because he is in his element, here. We weave our webs of deception and delve into political intrigue. We study the world around us when we can, and always try to stay a step ahead of those around us. This is the life of a tactician._

_But it is not the life of the warrior, and for that reason, I worry for Priam._

_That's not to say I wish Priam wasn't here. In fact, it's the exact opposite. I know I have a tendency to overthink things, and to get carried away, sometimes leaving behind obvious solutions or forgetting a few details. I think every great tactician needs a foil grounded in reality, who lives in the moment. Dad was never alone, was he? Mom was by his side, as was Uncle Chrom. Back in the Ylisse, while I was working with the Shepherds, I had Severa and Lucina. That's why I'm glad to have Priam with me now._

_I only wish he was as comfortable in our quest as Soren and I are. In spite of his dreams of seeing the homeland of his ancestors and of fighting for a great cause, he seems completely overwhelmed. In Azure Pyre, and even during our voyage here, Priam's strength and will shined through his insecurity and inexperience. I remember the way he argued with Soren, when Soren was criticizing my admittedly poorly-conceived plan. Though he could not overtly disagree with Soren, idealism alone led him to push past the cloud of jaded pessimism._

_That confidence seems to have faded, somewhat, as we've moved farther and farther from the struggles he had envisioned. In the heat of battle, I can see the proud warrior I know Priam to be, standing and fighting fiercely for what he believes to be right. But outside of our skirmishes against the eidolons and the Redeemers, Priam seems completely lost. Soren and I forge a path, leaving him to follow blindly in our wake._

_Lost as he is, Priam never complains. Despite Soren's harsh words, Priam has the heart of a true warrior and hero. He can see his own shortcomings, and finds the strength to surpass them. In his eyes, I can still see the burning desire to prove himself, not to the world, but to himself. He trusts in us to lead the way, and he trusts in himself to find a place in our quest, regardless of how helpless and disoriented he may feel._

_My greatest consolation is knowing that his uncertainty is about to reach its end. Thanks to our encounter with Nasir, we are almost out of time. The shadows will recede, and there will be nowhere for us to hide._

_And though none of us have spoken of the events to come after, I think each and every one of us realizes that our subterfuge is only the first chapter of this story._

_We have seen Tantalus's tenacity and resourcefulness. Even after claiming Extinction's essence and foiling his plans, he may still be a threat._

_We have heard whispers of the Redeemers' ruthlessness, and have caught a glimpse of their incredible power. There is a war hanging on the horizon, looming over this restless land._

_Priam will find his place soon enough. He'll find the opportunity to lend his might to Tellius, the homeland of his ancestors, and to prove himself worthy of his heritage._


	13. Chapter 8

**~ Chapter 8 ~**

Morgan blew out an impatient, frustrated sigh. "This is a complete waste of our time," she grumbled quietly.

Just as she spoke, Priam stepped gingerly over the shattered door of the abandoned tavern. "Is something wrong, Morgan?" Priam asked, noting her distress.

"Other than the fact that it's been almost two weeks, which means Nasir and his friends could show up any day now, and we still have absolutely nothing to show for our countless hours of searching, everything is just fine," Morgan said sarcastically.

"Sounds like someone's in a good mood today," Lionel remarked jokingly, as he, too, stepped into the tavern. His expression drooped when he looked around the room.

"There's nothing here," Morgan informed him glumly.

It wasn't strictly true. There was no sign of the "shimmering, gemstone-like shards" that Tantalus had described, but the building had been thoroughly burned, and charred planks and bricks lay scattered about. The bodies had thankfully been cleaned away long ago, likely by the perpetrators of this massacre, but many dried bloodstains remained as a testament to the carnage, visible beneath the dust and debris.

"I see," Lionel said stiffly, trying to hide his own discomfort. "I suppose the odds were against it to begin with. Let's get going."

Morgan and Priam were all too glad to get away from the gruesome scene, and quickly followed Lionel outside. Not that it was much better outside the tavern. The Redeemers had left Silent Grove true to its name.

"Where's Soren?" Morgan asked, trying to take her mind off the eerie, deathly feeling that surrounded them by breaking the eerie silence.

"He's searching the east side of the village, across the small brook," Lionel said. "I've checked out the village square and the bathhouse. There was nothing to be found there, either."

"Or down by the ranch," Priam added. "There were a few animal carcasses, but that's about it. They looked to be at least a few weeks old, it seems. Maybe as long as two months."

"Sounds about right," Lionel said, remembering Tantalus's estimate of when the attack occurred.

"Where do you think we're off to next?" Morgan asked.

Lionel had no answer to that, and the three trudged on in silence.

As it turned out, Tantalus didn't really have a concrete plan for finding Extinction's essence. Allegedly, a dire eidolon's essence appeared in the general vicinity of where the eidolon was defeated, not long after it was vanquished. According to Tantalus, Maelstrom's essence had been split into several fragments, but he wasn't entirely certain whether Extinction's essence would also have been divided.

Lionel confirmed the stories indicating that Extinction had fallen somewhere in the Snowflake Forest. Unfortunately, since the final battle had been fought exclusively by the bird Laguz, who alone were able to pursue the eidolon north, the Daein prince didn't know the exact location where Extinction had been defeated, either. For the first week, they had wandered aimlessly about the foothills of the Flameheart Mountains.

When their earlier endeavors proved fruitless, Tantalus suggested searching around the Revenant Copse, a deeper section of the forest that mysteriously attracted rogue eidolons. That search also turned up nothing, save for a pack of savage wights.

As they were running out of ideas, Soren finally suggested that one of Silent Grove's former residents may have come across a part of Extinction's essence and collected it without recognizing its true nature. It was quite a stretch, but they had little else to go on. Still, it seemed as if they would be returning to Tantalus's cave empty-handed once more.

* * *

"Soren!" Morgan called, as she saw the branded mage walking toward them. "Find anything?"

"Nothing that we were hoping to find," Soren replied nonchalantly. "I think I found the graves. It seems the Redeemers buried the villagers just to the east of the temple. There's a trail leading into the woods, and several new, shoddily prepared graves in a large meadow."

Morgan cringed. "Anything else?"

"An abandoned library. Wildly ransacked, as was the temple, as if someone had searched through them before us. Both appear to have been deserted for at least several weeks," Soren said with a shrug.

"I think we're wasting our time, Soren," Morgan said in a small voice, hesitant to complain too vocally. It was quite apparent that none of her companions were enjoying their seemingly futile search any more than she was.

"You're right," Soren acknowledged offhandedly. "It's been two weeks already, and we have yet to unearth even a hint at where our objective lies."

"The Redeemers are probably closing in on us now, as are the Goldoans," Lionel added worriedly. "We're running out of time."

"Maybe we should return to Daein," Morgan said thoughtfully. "We can try to convince Tantalus to come with us. The Redeemers won't follow us there, and when Nasir's friends find us, maybe we can talk things out with them." There were plenty of holes in her plan. She wasn't sure how they were going to convince Tantalus to abandon their hunt, even temporarily, nor how they could bring in others on their plan without tipping Tantalus off. To make matters worse, the dragon Laguz might not be so willing to forgive their encounter with Nasir. Still, it seemed better than wasting their time combing the forest by hand while waiting for the Goldoans or the Redeemers to catch them out in the open.

"That's not a bad idea," Soren admitted. "Even Tantalus will have to admit that this search is going nowhere. He can't stay here, anyways. Maybe we can convince him to try to work things out with Queen Micaiah directly. If we can, then we can leave the Redeemers to them and continue searching for Morgan's friend ourselves."

"Without Tantalus's help?" Priam asked.

"I imagine Tantalus is going to be quite busy for some time, whether he chooses to accompany us or not," Soren said grimly. "Let's head back to the western road. According to Tantalus, the eastern road leads back to the ruined bridge we saw a few days back."

* * *

When they reached the town's market square, heading west, they found a group of people waiting there, talking amongst themselves nervously. The two parties noticed each other immediately, at the same time.

"Crud," Morgan muttered, immediately fearing the worst. She turned and glanced nervously at Soren. The older tactician's eyes seemed to flicker, and his expression tightened. Morgan suppressed a shudder as she realized that, for the first time since she had met him, Soren had been truly unnerved. At least he wasn't reaching for his tome this time.

"Prince Lionel! Soren! We must speak!" a man called to them in an amicable tone. The man bore a surprising resemblance to Soren, appearing fairly young, with dark-green hair and crimson eyes. He even wore a brand upon his forehead, too, but the brand was of a different shape. His skin was the same tanned shade as Nasir's, and his hair was of a slightly lighter shade of green.

"Time's up," Soren said. His voice was barely audible, and it bore a distinct, nervous edge.

Lionel grimaced. "Yeah. This will make things… interesting," he said quietly, sounding just as uneasy.

"Do you know him?" Priam asked.

"Yes. That's King Kurthnaga of Goldoa," Lionel explained.

At his words, Morgan scanned the rest of King Kurth's entourage, searching for any sign of Nasir, who she still hoped had escaped unscathed.

Nasir was nowhere to be seen, but Morgan suddenly found it hard to breathe as her gaze locked with a young woman clad in black, silver-trimmed armor, whose face was framed with long, familiar, platinum-blond hair.

Upon meeting Morgan's gaze, a look of unmistakable relief came over Severa. Ignoring Kurth and Soren, and everyone else, for that matter, she sprinted past the rest of her companions. "Morgan!" she cried out.

"Severa!?" Morgan gasped in disbelief. "What are… _how_…" she stammered, trying to make some sense of seeing her sister so far from home. She didn't quite manage to complete the thought before Severa threw her arms around Morgan.

"Gods… Morgan. You're safe," Severa whispered, as she held her younger sister tightly.

Several seconds passed in silence, as Morgan tried to make some sense of her sister's sudden appearance. "Umm… yeah. I'm fine. What are you doing here?" Morgan finally asked, in a confused tone.

Severa pushed her younger sister back to arm's length, and suddenly looked absolutely livid. "What am _I_ doing here!?" Severa cried indignantly. "Morgan, what in Naga's name were you thinking, coming all the way out here alone? Do you have any idea how worried we've been!?"

She still had Morgan by the shoulders, and shook the younger girl furiously as she spoke, making it hard for Morgan to answer. "I'm… I'm f-fine… Sis… can… take c-care… myself," Morgan managed to sputter.

"Relax, Sev," Lucina laughed, as she and Owain reached Severa's side. "I told you Morgan would be alright."

"Lucina? _Owain_?" Morgan gaped. Lucina looked exactly how Morgan remembered her. On the other hand, Owain looked as if he had aged a few years, at least, given his disheveled hair and clothing and weathered skin.

"You shouldn't be so surprised to see Owain here," Lucina said, with a slight smile. "It's technically his fault that we're all in Tellius, after all."

"Hey!" Owain protested, though he couldn't help but smile as well. That smile fell away a second later, when Severa shot him a freezing glare.

"Nasir informed us of your whereabouts," Kurth explained, speaking directly to Morgan. The young tactician shifted uncomfortably upon the mention of Nasir. Kurth, noticing her discomfort and the sympathetic look in her eyes, smiled gently and answered her unspoken question. "Nasir is fine. He asked me to offer you his gratitude, as a matter of fact."

Morgan nodded gratefully, visibly relieved. "Thank you, King Kurthnaga," she said politely.

Kurth then turned to Soren. "I'm glad to see you again, Soren… but I don't believe we have time for casual conversation right now, do we?" he said.

When Soren said nothing, Morgan glanced at him nervously, having expected a sarcastic quip from him, at least. Soren only stood perfectly still, his expression rigid. But it was a mask, Morgan knew. Deep down, he was probably scrambling for answers, searching for some way to keep their quest on course.

Kurth, unsurprised by Soren's reluctance to respond, waited a few seconds before continuing. "Now that Morgan is reunited with her friend… friends, as it turns out, your search is at its end," he said mildly. "I would understand if you prefer to return to your own lives as quickly as possible, but would you perhaps be willing to tell me a bit about your acquaintance, Tantalus?"

When again, Soren did not answer, Lionel decided to speak up. "King Goldoa," he began deferentially. "There is another reason for us working alongside Tantalus. I've spoken to him, and his claims confirm that which we have long suspected. The Redeemers have their own plans in place, plans that would threaten not only Daein, but all of Tellius."

"I was told that Tantalus intends to resurrect Extinction. Prince Lionel, you, who were once near-fatally wounded by Extinction, would certainly know of the danger entailed," Kurth said, trying his best not to sound accusing or otherwise hostile.

"I know, but we're left with little choice," Lionel argued. "If Tantalus was telling the truth, the Redeemers are far stronger than Extinction alone ever was."

"And you _believe_ him?" Severa asked, clearly appalled. "Believe him, and trust him enough to place so much power in his hands? Have you gone mad!?" As she spoke, she stared accusingly at Morgan, silently wondering what had so thoroughly blinded her normally perceptive younger sister.

"We've seen a hint of the Redeemers' strength already," Lionel defended weakly.

"And everything we've seen thus far in Tellius indicates that Tellius _is_ telling us the truth," Soren added, speaking up at last. "The Redeemers are acting swiftly and aggressively, and Queen Micaiah made it abundantly clear that Tellius is _not_ adequately prepared."

"And if Tantalus fails to restrain Extinction?" Kurth questioned.

"Then we'll have to destroy it again," Soren answered simply, shrugging.

Another member of Kurth's party, a Laguz woman with dark-feathered wings, spoke up suddenly. "Right. Destroy a dire eidolon, just like that," she said scathingly, staring at Soren angrily. Morgan studied her expression carefully, noting a hint of fear as well. "Do you have any idea what our last battle with Extinction cost us?" she demanded.

"That's not the worst of it," the dark haired Beorc woman added. "Tantalus still holds the Entropy Shard, a device that can harness the power of discord. Maelstrom overpowered my brother and escaped when Tantalus augmented its strength with the shard. Tantalus will likely attempt to do the same with Extinction. Even if Tantalus could be trusted, should Extinction overpower him and escape, it will be far stronger than it was when it was defeated two centuries ago."

"Listen to Harmony, Morgan," Severa said, appealing to her sister once more. But as she spoke, she saw the conflict in Morgan's eyes. A flash of insight struck her, and her eyes widened with sudden understanding.

Morgan noticed the subtle change in Severa's expression, and knew that her sister understood. It was a huge relief, in a way, knowing that her sister no longer thought she was crazy. Whether Severa knew they were probably being watched, though, was a different story. Morgan knew all too well that her sister was _not_ a subtle person, and could only hope that Severa could trust in her long enough to come up with some way of keeping their plan intact.

"Tantalus is working against the Redeemers, too," Morgan reminded. "We are facing a common enemy that's too powerful for either of us to handle alone. We have to work together, but right now, we have to find Extinction's essence before the Redeemers catch up. We can sort things out with Tantalus after."

"Shouldn't we have everything sorted out _before_ we uncover something so dangerous?" Owain muttered. Severa elbowed him painfully in the side, and shot him a dirty look. "Ouch! What was that for!?"

"Shut up," Severa hissed. Owain looked at Lucina appealingly, but Lucina had clearly sensed that Severa knew something they didn't, and only nodded in agreement. Owain sighed, then fell silent.

But it was all for naught, as Severa had not been the only one to understand what Morgan was trying very hard not to say. "You're not truly in league with Tantalus, are you?" Kurth realized aloud. "You're using him to help you track down Extinction's essence first, hoping to keep it away from both him _and_ the Redeemers."

Morgan, Priam, and Lionel all flinched as Soren's face fell into his hands. "Thank you for saying that out loud," Soren groaned in a muffled, but unmistakably sarcastic tone.

Before Soren could finish conveying his disgust, though, the black-feathered Laguz woman interrupted, sounding horrified. "You can't do that!" she cried out.

"I think we've just about realized that," Priam said, finally joining the conversation now that it had touched upon a rather sore subject. "Tantalus doesn't have any idea where it is, either, and we've been chasing our own tails in circles for two weeks now."

The Laguz shook her head violently. "You can't find Extinction's essence, because Extinction was never destroyed."

For a moment, everyone stared at her in silence, their minds trying to register her absurd declaration."

"What are you saying, Nighthawk?" Kurth asked.

"I don't understand," Lionel said slowly. "I was there with Daein's army when we wounded Extinction and drove it off. King Tibarn himself led the rest of the Phoenician army north to finish it off."

"It wasn't enough," the girl that Kurth had called Nighthawk whimpered. "It fled…"

"Stop!" Soren interrupted loudly. He was more agitated than Morgan could ever remember seeing him.

It was too late.

"…into the depths of the Flameheart Mountains, where my father sealed it away," the Laguz girl finished.

"And if Tantalus is watching us right now, as we suspect he is, he now knows exactly where to find Extinction. Congratulations," Soren said wryly, being the only person who had not been stunned into silence.

Severa, naturally, was the next to find her voice once more. "Are you kidding me!?" she cried, turning to face the black-feathered Laguz woman once more. "Did you learn _nothing_ from Dragonflame Isle? What in Naga's name is with you people and hiding your monsters instead of killing them!?"

"Do you really think we had a choice!?" the Laguz fired back angrily, though Morgan could see the guilt in her expression.

"You could have told someone!" Severa retorted. "Instead of keeping it a secret for over two centuries!"

"We don't have time for this right now. What's done is done," Kurth interrupted reasonably, stepping in between the two women. He, too, looked both frustrated and worried. "Soren, what did you mean by watching us? Is Tantalus here?" Kurth asked, turning to Soren once more.

"Over there!" Harmony interrupted suddenly, pointing at the upper boughs of the forest canopy. Instinctively, everyone turned at her words, just as a large, black, skeletal bird of some sort emerged from the concealing leaves. The phantom spiraled lazily upward before turning and drifting to the east.

Without hesitation, Lionel lifted his bow and drew a handful of arrows from his quiver into his right hand. The three arrows whistled through the air, one after another. The first caught the phantom in the back, and the second and third tore through each of the phantom's wings. Noiselessly, the bird-like monstrosity writhed a bit, before plummeting to the forest below.

"It seems our caution in Daein was unnecessary, after all," Soren remarked, closing his eyes and doing his best to control his frustration. "If Tantalus was spying on us through his phantoms, I doubt they could have remained unnoticed in Nevassa."

Two other members of Kurth's party, a petite, dark-haired female Laguz with the leathery, furry wings and a tall, young, dark haired Beorc man wearing a black cloak, both turned to Harmony, seeking guidance.

"Harmony, would destroying the phantom stop Tantalus from learning what the phantom overheard?" the man asked, clearly fearing the worst.

"It won't," Harmony answered, shaking her head. She spoke evenly, but seemed quite distraught nonetheless. "Tantalus designed a spell that allows his mind to temporarily inhabit one of his phantoms, sharing its senses. It's as if he was there in person all along."

"So Tantalus now knows almost exactly where Extinction can be found," Kurth realized, frowning.

"But everything's alright… right?" Owain asked shakily. "Extinction is still sealed away, isn't it? We just have to find Tantalus right away, before he can free Extinction."

Harmony began shaking her head even before Owain finished his proposal. "It's too late for that," Harmony said with a sigh. "Tantalus has warp powder at his disposal. If he was already hiding in the Snowflake Forest, he doesn't have far to travel, meaning the debilitating aftereffects won't last very long. He's probably already combing the tunnels of the Flameheart Mountains."

"If we hurry, maybe we can catch up to him before he finds Extinction, then," Morgan suggested meekly.

"Morgan's right," Lucina agreed. "Cave tunnels can be pretty hard to navigate. We might not be out of time quite yet, especially if Tantalus doesn't know exactly where Extinction is."

"Lead us to where Extinction is buried," Soren demanded, turning to the Nighthawk. "If we can reach Extinction before Tantalus, we might be able to keep him from setting Extinction free. And remember, he might still have other phantoms watching us. Don't say or do anything that might lead him to Extinction first."

But even as the Nighthawk shook her head, dismayed, Kurth spoke up. "The Nighthawk wouldn't know the exact location. She was born decades after Extinction was defeated," he said.

"I only know what my father told me," Nighthawk admitted.

"What about you, Ulki?" Kurth asked, turning toward a slight figure leaning against a nearby building. Upon being spoken to directly, the old hawk Laguz stepped out from the shadows where he had been listening silently.

"I do not know," Ulki admitted. "I was wounded early in the battle. Janaff and I accompanied King Tibarn, but he commanded us to wait at the cave entrance into which Extinction fled. King Tibarn set off to pursue Extinction alone, accompanied only by Naesala and Leanne."

"Which means Tibarn is the only person alive who would know where Extinction was sealed," Kurth summarized.

"Bird Laguz and their indomitable pride," Soren grumbled. Ulki and Celera both bristled at the insult, but given the circumstances, had few words they could offer in their own defense. "Ulki, show us to the cave entrance, at least," Soren decided after a moment's thought. "There are many such tunnels in the mountains. If we can find the right one before him, perhaps we could intercept him there."

"Agreed," Ulki said, unfurling his wings. "Follow me," he instructed brusquely.

* * *

They marched along the southeast road, heading back to Wilderness's Edge. Priam and Lionel had voiced their doubts immediately upon recognizing the direction, warning Ulki that the bridge had been destroyed. But Kurth had calmly assured them that a damaged bridge wouldn't be a problem.

Once their course was set, Morgan naturally gravitated to her sister's side. Upon seeing her sister's mood, though, she decided to hold her many questions back for the time being. With Lucina and Owain beside them, they trudged on in silence for some time.

"Sorry," Morgan said sheepishly, when she couldn't stand the tension any longer.

"For what?" Lucina asked, startled.

"For this huge mess we're in," Morgan clarified. "We met Tantalus not long after we landed, and after talking to Queen Micaiah, we decided it was too dangerous to ignore Tantalus. But I guess we bit off a little more than we could chew," she admitted.

"It's not your fault," Severa said quietly. "I guess we kind of messed up your plan a little bit, didn't we?"

Morgan shrugged. "It wasn't a very good plan to begin with, honestly. Soren and I both knew there were so many ways it could go horribly wrong, but we couldn't come up with anything else. I wish Dad was here with us…"

"I don't think Dad would've done anything differently," Severa insisted reassuringly. "You can ask him yourself when we're home."

"Speaking of which, how did you and Lucina get here anyways?" Morgan asked.

Severa rolled her eyes. "Dad outfitted _two_ of those ships, remember? Lucina and I set off aboard the _Stormfall_ almost as soon as we found your letter."

"We were hoping that we could catch up to you, since there were two of us to operate the lectern," Lucina explained.

"But how did you know which way to..." Morgan began to ask. Even as the words left her mouth, she remembered the invention her father had accidentally stumbled upon, a way to track the magical energies of one of their lecterns. "He lent you the compass, didn't he?"

Severa only nodded, wearing a triumphant smile.

"So where were you this whole time, Owain?" Morgan asked, turning to Owain.

"Where else? I crossed Ylissean frontier into unsung chapters of heroism and adventure, and into the making of new…" Owain began dramatically.

"He was thoroughly lost," Severa interrupted impatiently.

"Maybe it's a good thing you set out searching for him, Morgan," Lucina admitted, poking Owain's arm teasingly. "He might have never found his way back otherwise."

"What a shame that would've been," Severa said, rolling her eyes again. Owain pouted at her sadly. "Don't look at me like that," Severa protested, as Lucina and Morgan both laughed.

"So… who's everyone else?" Morgan asked curiously, for in their haste, they had skipped any formal introductions.

"The dark haired human man, or Beorc, or whatever, is Symphony," Severa began, gesturing towards the tall man with the dark cloak. "He and his sister, Harmony, are both spirit charmers."

"They used to be part of the Redeemers, until they summoned and lost control of Maelstrom," Lucina said. "Maelstrom is…"

"The dire eidolon that attacked Ferox, right," Morgan said.

"Symphony lost his memories, too, by the way. Because the world apparently needed more amnesiacs," Severa said with a smirk. "Anyways, that's how he ended up living in Silent Grove, that village we just passed through. His sister found him there and had a change of heart when she saw how great it was _not_ working for a shady cult trying to conquer the world."

"He used to live in Silent Grove?" Morgan asked, astonished, and a little bit relieved. "So, not everyone in the village was killed, after all."

"Most were," Lucina said sadly. "Iris was the only other survivor," she added, gesturing toward the small, dark haired Laguz with the bat-like wings.

"Is she a Laguz? I didn't know there were any Laguz who could change into bats," Morgan said, looking at Iris curiously.

"Apparently Iris is the only one of her kind left," Severa said with a shrug. "It sounds like they didn't get along very well with the Beorc, or with the other Laguz."

"Why not?" Morgan asked.

"Because _some_ people have a tendency to panic when other people change into bats, and immediately accuse them of being vampires," Lucina said, with a sly smile.

"Shut up," Severa said, blushing furiously. "Anyways, that's Celera, or the Nighthawk, as she prefers to be called," she added, indicating the dark-feathered Laguz who was tailing Ulki closely.

"When we first met with Symphony and Iris, they were hoping to chase down the Redeemers who sacked Silent Grove," Lucina said. "We encountered Celera and her fellow Laguz on the way, and they directed us to their friend Nasir, who helped us break into the Redeemer's fortress."

"Where is Nasir, anyways?" Morgan asked.

"He's fine," Severa assured. "After delivering his report to King Kurth and getting some rest, he set off for Begnion."

"With Anna, too," Owain reminded.

"Anna? What was _she_ doing here?" Morgan asked.

"This is _Anna_ we're talking about. If she thinks there's money to be had, she'd chase it to the ends of the world," Severa grouched.

"She's not the Anna from the Shepherds, by the way," Owain explained.

"Just one of her sisters, who looks the same, acts the same, and is also named Anna," Morgan said, grinning helplessly. "Is she lost too? I guess we could give her a ride home when this is all over."

"Do we have to? Maybe we could just leave without a word instead," Severa suggested hopefully.

"What about Uncle Robin's project? She and Nasir agreed to help him with it. We're going to have to see them again when it's finished, aren't we?" Lucina reminded.

"Wait… Dad is here in Tellius!?" Morgan gasped.

"No, nothing like that," Lucina amended hastily. "Uncle Robin gave us this strange mirror before he left, and a couple weeks ago he learned how to talk to us through it."

"Really!?" Morgan said eagerly. "Can I see him? And Mom, and…"

"We lent the mirror to Nasir," Severa interrupted, dashing her hopes. "Dad said he had another invention for us, only he needs someone on this side to actually prepare it, and we thought it would be easier for them to find the materials in an actual city. Nasir thinks they should find everything they need in Begnion, and was also going to ask their emperor to send help our way, too."

"We're guessing that Uncle Robin found a new formula for warp powder," Lucina guessed. "But we're not sure. He was away from Ylisstol, and he didn't have any more of whatever he was using to keep the mirrors activated on hand, so we couldn't talk for long. Before the mirrors deactivated, he told us to make sure we had some obsidian. According to Harmony, obsidian is one of the key ingredients in the Redeemer's version of warp powder."

"It's better than the formula you and Dad used," Severa said. "It actually takes you to where you want to go, instead of missing by a few hundred feet, give or take a few miles."

"That could come in handy," Morgan agreed. Truthfully, she wasn't so interested in the prospect of a new and improved warp powder formula. The prospect of seeing her mother and father again, even if only in a magical mirror, was far more intriguing.

"Anyways, don't beat yourself up over this," Lucina said kindly. "To be honest, we ran into quite a bit of trouble ourselves, too. At least we still have a chance to keep Extinction from being freed."

"Wish we could say the same about Calamity," Owain muttered darkly.

"Calamity?" Morgan asked, confused.

With a sigh, Owain began his story of how he was hired by Kurth to track down the Dominion Scepter, how he had run into Lucina and Severa during the search, and how the scepter had been stolen after Calamity was reawakened.

"Umm… wow," Morgan said, lost for words.

"You said it," Severa said glumly. "We come here searching for one giant monster and end up freeing a second one. And now we're on the verge of finding ourselves a third."

"So… King Kurth can really change into a dragon?" Morgan said, wildly searching for a change in subject. "A _big_ dragon? Bigger than Nasir, even?"

"About the same size as Nasir," Lucina corrected.

But a moment later, her answer was rendered redundant, for they had come to the ruined bridge. As they came to the riverside, black scales sprouted from Kurth's skin, spreading across his body as he grew larger, and his silhouette changed. A few short seconds later, the mighty black dragon flexed his wings.

"I can carry three of you at a time," Kurth announced, his voice growing deeper, though it still held the same mellow, jovial quality. "Quickly now," he demanded, when many of his companions only stared in awe.

Ulki, Celera, and Iris could fly on their own, and crossed quickly, waiting on the other side for Kurth to ferry the other nine across. A few minutes later, Kurth landed, and after Soren, Priam, and Lionel climbed down from his back, he reverted to his human shape and nodded for Ulki to continue.

* * *

Ever since Nasir returned to his side with the disturbing tale of encountering Soren in the Snowflake Forest, Kurth had been anticipating a reunion with the tactician, though not without a bit of trepidation. Soren had never been as close to the others of their company as the rest of the Greil Mercenaries. The reason became apparent as soon as Kurth's sister, Almedha, told him the truth. Prior to the War of the Goddess, no branded could truly find their place, among the Beorc or the Laguz. The Radiant Hero must have known what Soren was, and accepted him in spite of that knowledge.

It was unfortunate, but Almedha had never found the courage to reveal the truth to Soren, and the branded tactician had never learned of his true parentage. As isolated as Goldoa was at the time, King Dheginsea would never have turned away his grandson, even if Soren was also the lost son of Mad King Ashnard.

Then again, given Soren's loyalty to Ike, it was unlikely that Soren could have been swayed from his course. But despite Soren's seemingly emotionless demeanor, Kurth could sense the bitterness in his nephew's heart.

So Kurth watched, and waited, wondering if he would find the opportunity to broach the subject. He knew his attention had not escaped unnoticed, but for some time, even after crossing the river, Soren continued to ignore him.

Then, finally, Soren seemed to slow a bit, allowing the Daein prince, and the young Beorc who could only be the Radiant Hero's descendant, to pull ahead of them. "Did you wish to say something, King Goldoa?" Soren asked quietly, slightly emphasizing Kurth's title in an insincere, mocking manner.

"I did," Kurth said, though he hesitated, trying to find an appropriate way to phrase his question.

"This is about Nasir, I suppose," Soren said wryly. "You are angered by my ruthlessness toward your retainer."

"I am," Kurth admitted. "But Nasir shared with me your words, and sad as it might be, neither of us can truly fault your hatred of the Laguz."

"I do not hate the Laguz," Soren corrected automatically. "I dismissed my hatred centuries ago. My words and actions in Wilderness's Edge were for the sake of our mission here. Nothing more."

"Your actions speak otherwise," Kurth accused.

"I did what I had to do," Soren said flippantly. "We discussed our course carefully, and Morgan was determined to follow one most beneficial for _your_ world, and _your_ people. Nasir was threatening to unravel our plan, just as you and your friends just did."

Kurth ignored the verbal jab. "Whatever your reason, your anger and bitterness were real, Soren. You haven't dismissed it, you've merely buried it."

"Call it what you like," Soren said, in a tone that made it clear he didn't care. "If you would rather think that I hate you and your kin, so be it. It matters not to me."

"You tied your life to a single man," Kurth went on, undeterred. "A great man, but a Beorc, who must have passed away centuries ago."

"Did I, now?" Soren asked, feigning amusement.

"Even now, you've resigned yourself to following his descendants," Kurth reasoned, glancing at Priam. "Tell me, Soren. What does the boy really mean to you? Is he family, the way Ike once was? Or is it only responsibility keeping you here, by his side?"

"You know nothing," Soren said, and it sounded to Kurth as if Soren was fighting to remain calm.

"I know Ike would have hated to see you this way," Kurth said anyways. "To see his best friend drifting along, alive without truly living, century after century. Do you truly believe Ike would have wanted this for you?"

To his surprise, Soren laughed, a cold, mirthless, mocking laughter that accentuated his next words. "You know nothing," Soren reiterated calmly. "Ike and I were friends. That is all. Any obligation I once had to him, I fulfilled centuries ago."

"So you do care for the boy," Kurth reasoned. A shadow flickered across Soren's face. That, and Soren's silence, were answer enough. "Why, Soren? What keeps you here, and from finding yourself a new place in the world?"

"Ah, yes. A new place in the world. In Ylisse, I suppose, where seldom few live beyond the age of sixty save for the Manaketes, who are placed upon a pedestal as children of the gods. Or perhaps I should have returned here to Tellius, where the Beorc fear us, and the Laguz despise us," Soren said dryly. "Very tempting."

"Tellius has changed," Kurth said. "Do you remember Stefan?"

"Of course. An idealist chasing a lifelong dream to create a grand home for all of the branded that the world left behind," Soren recalled, in a lofty tone.

"He succeeded, for a time," Kurth went on, ignoring Soren's sarcasm. "His settlement in the far reaches of Begnion thrived for many years."

"In the Grann Desert," Soren guessed. Kurth nodded. "He invited me to visit, once," Soren said. "Though the offer is as unappealing now as it was then."

"The settlement became a small kingdom of its own," Kurth said, ignoring Soren's apparent distaste. "But by the turn of the century, it faded away once more. The branded had no more need of it, Soren. Just as the Beorc and Laguz came to accept one another, the Beorc learned to welcome the branded. They live openly now, in Begnion, Crimea, and Daein."

"Glad to hear it," Soren said dismissively.

"The Laguz, too, opened their borders," Kurth continued. "Though many of the branded could not easily forgive the prejudice they had suffered, all scars heal in time. There are branded living in Gallia and Phoenicis, now."

"But not Goldoa?" Soren asked.

"Not yet," Kurth admitted. "Our borders are open to them, but most branded who choose to live among the Laguz are those who are informed about their heritage. To them, the home of their Laguz ancestors is their home, too."

"Fascinating," Soren said, still not really seeing Kurth's point.

"It is, isn't it?" Kurth replied. "Soren… your anger toward the Laguz is justified. No, don't argue," Kurth said, as Soren opened his mouth to protest. "The branded, at the mercy of the Laguz tribes, suffered many undeserved cruelties, including Goldoa's calculated indifference."

Soren winced uncomfortably. "Let it go, King Goldoa. I have chosen my path."

"You have, and I have no right to steer you away from it," Kurth admitted. "But you have a place here, Soren, if you want it. Among the Beorc, or among your family, if you wish."

"I don't know my family," Soren reminded.

"You are a son of Goldoa," Kurth said evenly. "You are the eldest grandchild of King Dheginsea, and my nephew."

For the first time Kurth could remember, Soren looked genuinely shocked. But once Soren was convinced that Kurth was being sincere, his expression grew dour as he considered the implications. "I am King Ashnard's son," Soren realized dourly.

"Yes," Kurth admitted. "The child that King Ashnard sent away. My sister and I met with you, one last time, not long before you left Tellius. That's when she realized the truth. But by the time she found the courage to seek you out, it was too late."

"I see," Soren said, regaining his composure. "Does she still live?"

Kurth shook his head sadly. "The crimes of her husband, the death of our brother, and the third and seemingly final loss of her child was too much for her. She passed away less than a decade after you left."

Soren shrugged. "I suppose things better this way. I wouldn't know what to say to her, anyways."

"Can you forgive us, Soren?" Kurth pleaded. "For what we did to you, and your kind?"

"I never personally suffered at the hands of the Laguz," Soren reminded. "And I was equally guilty of prejudice and intolerance."

Soren's words were spoken almost mechanically, and Kurth could tell there was something deeper still eating at Soren. But given Soren's evasive manner, he also knew he was unlikely to get any further. "Thank you, Soren," Kurth said acceptingly. "When this is over… if you find yourself without direction, come to Goldoa. We might not know each other now, but we are family. You will have a place there, if that is your desire."

The two of them were at the rear of the procession by now, and Soren glanced ahead to where Priam was walking side-by-side with Prince Lionel, fifty paces ahead of them. "I appreciate your offer. But I made a promise," he informed Kurth quietly.

"Ike would never have wanted…" Kurth began.

"This has nothing to do with Ike," Soren interrupted heatedly, and for a moment, his emotions seemed to flare through his stony, impassive guise.

Tears welled in Kurth's eyes, for in Soren's uncharacteristic, emotional outburst, the truth finally became clear. He saw his nephew's grief, and the stem of his disappointment and unrelenting bitterness. He searched for the right words to convey his understanding, but the effort was futile. Finally, only a short question, one that Kurth wasn't even sure he wanted to hear the answer to, escaped from his lips, softly spoken.

"Who was she?"

"I'm afraid that's none of your business," Soren said flatly, after regaining his composure once more. With that said, he marched on ahead, clearly signaling that their conversation was at its end.

* * *

Iris had remained perfectly quiet ever since the small beach north of Silent Grove came into sight. Save for his single question for Harmony after Tantalus's spy announced its presence, Symphony, too, seemed to have nothing to say. All throughout their confrontation in Silent Grove, Symphony had seemed determined to ignore his surroundings, while Iris gazed about at the only true home she had ever known, wearing a haunted expression.

Each of them had spared the ravaged village a wistful look as it was swallowed by the forest in their wake, unnoticed by their companions, save for Harmony, who had been watching them subtly, and shared their pain acutely. It stung at her to think about how things could have been different, had she told her brother and his friends the truth as soon as she met him, and to imagine how many of the village's people could have escaped the wrath of the Redeemer's if they had been forewarned of the threat.

Sensing that Symphony and Iris needed some space, Harmony elected not to speak of it, at least until they reached the edge of the forest and started across the foothills. In truth, she would have been more comfortable letting the matter rest, but plagued by persistent doubts, she finally spoke up. "Symphony… are you sure you're ready for this?" Harmony asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Symphony said, his voice sounding raspy. As if the sound of his own voice, distorted from disuse, made him uncomfortable, he cleared his throat before speaking again. "We've come this far, though I do wonder what my part in all this might be," he admitted.

"Your part is whatever you choose for it to be," Harmony reminded. "And the decision you made before doesn't have to be final. You can still turn back now. Maybe it's better that you do; you're all Iris has left, but she really doesn't belong on the battlefield." She glanced at Iris as she spoke. "No offense."

"None taken," Iris assured softly, her eye shining with apprehension. "But… haven't we had this conversation once already? I'm not leaving," she added quickly.

"Neither am I," Symphony agreed. "But still… I feel so small. I'm a spirit charmer who doesn't even truly know how to use his gifts besides keeping a few rogue eidolons at bay. Am I really worthy of fighting alongside ancient champions of Tellius like King Kurthnaga and Soren? Or victorious heroes from a distant world like Lucina and Severa?"

"Not to mention the descendent of the Radiant Hero himself," Harmony added thoughtfully, with a small sigh. "I know what you mean, Symphony. But if it makes you feel better, your mastery of the spirits exceeds that of even Tantalus, and you were one of the Redeemers' strongest fighters, too. You have potential, even if you haven't realized it."

"Well, _that's_ comforting," Symphony said grimly, forcing himself to laugh. "Does that mean we have the upper hand, for once?"

"Unless Tantalus has something else up his sleeves," Harmony said, in a worried tone. "Tantalus isn't particularly powerful, but he can be dangerously clever at times. But that's not what I'm asking," she said, as she abruptly realized how far they had digressed.

"What _are_ you asking, then?" Symphony asked.

In answer, Harmony glanced back in the direction of Silent Grove. Symphony and Iris both winced uncomfortably, betraying their own feelings.

"Silent Grove is gone," Symphony said, keeping his voice bland and unemotional.

"I know," Harmony said sympathetically. "But it doesn't have to be gone for good."

"I'm not going back," Symphony said, in a tone of finality. "If someone chooses to settle there, years, decades, or even centuries from now, that's not my concern. But I won't disturb their peace any longer."

"They always accepted you," Iris reminded gently. "They welcomed us both, ever since they met you, and ever since you rescued me from the ancient ruin and brought me there, too."

"And paid a great price for their kindness," Symphony said darkly. He shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not going back," he repeated.

"Not even to say good-bye?" Iris asked, sounding saddened.

Symphony laughed bitterly. "They can't hear me anymore, can they? Even if they could… what can I say? How can I even begin to apologize?"

Iris's lips quirked into a small smile. "If Noelle were here, she'd hit you for that. Hard, right on the shoulder, like she always did when you said something stupid," Iris said. "And Lily would make that sad little pout that you could never stand for long."

"Sounds about right," Symphony said absently.

"We should go back," Iris decided, though she seemed a little bit apprehensive at the prospect herself. "We owe it to them, don't we? For giving us a home when we had none. We should see them one last time, at least."

"We don't even know where they're buried," Symphony reminded harshly. "And I'm not sure I want to know."

"Then we'll just visit the town square," Iris said with an unconcerned shrug. "Other than the tavern, that was where we always gathered, wasn't it? If they're watching, they'll see us there."

Harmony smiled faintly. The spiritualism of it was a bit lost on her, and she could see how much pain the village brought upon her younger brother. But a single glance at Symphony told her the truth – he needed closure. "I can explain to the others," she interjected, when Symphony looked indecisive. "They will understand."

"They won't have to," Symphony said, making up his mind at last. "I want to see this through. Even if it's no help to them anymore, our friends would rest easier if they knew Tantalus and the Redeemers have been dealt with."

Symphony turned to Iris, but she shot down his suggestion before he even voiced it. "I'm not staying behind," Iris said firmly. "Even if I'm not much help, I can keep myself out of danger. And if there's anything I can do to help… anything at all, I want to be there."

Symphony turned to Harmony helplessly, but Harmony only gave him a knowing smile.

* * *

"Redeemers."

The word, softly spoken, barely registered at first. But when it did, it put a quick end to the many hushed conversations of their new, larger party. As one, they turned to the speaker, Ulki, and then in the direction he was looking.

To the south, a sizable force was moving north. Over a hundred soldiers clad in black armor steadily approached, with a few wagons of supplies and equipment punctuating their line. What looked to be easily several hundred more soldiers were barely visible, a few miles behind the Redeemers' vanguard.

"We're running out of time," Kurth said tersely. "We must be on our way."

"With all haste," Ulki agreed, and he turned to the north, increasing their already brisk pace as they forged across the last of the foothills, and onto the rocky hillsides of the Flameheart Mountains.


	14. Chapter 9

**~ Chapter 9 ~**

Upon seeing the approaching Redeemers, Soren quickly made his way to the front of their procession, slowing only when he reached Ulki's side. Morgan and Kurth, sensing that there was something on Soren's mind, hastily followed suit.

"Do we continue?" Ulki rumbled softly, when Soren made no move to speak.

"I see no reason not to," Soren replied. "Our situation hasn't changed."

"If the Redeemers saw us, they will follow us to the same tunnel," Kurth warned. His eyes widened as he suddenly realized something else. "And if Tantalus is still watching us instead of making for the tunnel himself, then we're leading him right to his destination."

"Really?" Soren asked dryly. He sounded thoroughly unconcerned, and even slightly amused. Given his dour disposition, it was hard to be entirely sure. "You're only considering that possibility _now_?"

"Soren!" Morgan scolded. Soren rolled his eyes, but fell silent all the same, deciding to save his breath and leave the explanations to the younger tactician instead. "King Kurthnaga, it doesn't really matter whether we lead Tantalus to the tunnel or not. He's going to find it sooner or later, anyways, but warp powder only works if the user is reasonably familiar with the destination. If we get to the cave entrance before Tantalus, and don't let him send any of his phantoms past us, he won't be able to warp past us himself," Morgan explained. As she finished speaking, Priam, too, pushed his way to the front of the procession.

"_That's_ our plan?" Kurth asked incredulously. "Find and hold the entrance of the tunnel indefinitely?"

"Of course not," Soren said derisively. "Tantalus already has phantoms at his beck and call, and can probably find more if necessary. We can't hope to keep him away permanently, only delay him. In the meantime, we will do what should have been done centuries ago. We'll send word to Daein, and let their reinforcements secure the entrance."

"It will take weeks for Daein's reinforcements to reach us here," Kurth argued.

"Then that's how long we will have to delay Tantalus for," Priam declared. Standing at his side, Morgan was less convinced. Keeping Tantalus alone at bay for a few weeks would have been difficult, but now…

Kurth frowned, seeing the same flaw as Morgan. "And what of the Redeemers that are now tailing us?" he asked.

Soren's lip grew thin and he elected not to answer.

Despite the dire implications, Morgan couldn't resist smiling. "That's Soren's way of admitting he has no idea," Morgan said with a knowing, impish grin.

Soren glared at Morgan dangerously, but Morgan didn't shrink back, and only continued to smile. "Unforeseen complications _do_ arise from time to time," Soren admitted. "The Redeemers have put us in a rather precarious position."

"Perhaps we should be leaving instead," Kurth offered. "Let Tantalus and the Redeemers deal with one another, while we seek out reinforcements ourselves. Our enemies may skirt around each other, slowing their search and buying us enough time to return with a strong enough force to repel them both."

Soren began shaking his head immediately, even before Kurth finished speaking. "No. Tantalus doesn't have the strength to face the Redeemers directly. He would have known that all along, too. No doubt he has laid plans for this exact situation," he guessed.

"If we leave them to their own devices and Tantalus wins out, Extinction is free. If Tantalus loses, the Redeemers may be able to glean some information from him," Morgan said. "Either way, it will end badly for us."

"King Kurthnaga, are your people sending reinforcements already?" Priam asked in a hopeful tone. He then turned to Ulki. "Or maybe Phoenicis? I doubt we can repel an army for a few weeks, but a day or two, perhaps…"

"Even a day or two is probably beyond our reach, given our numbers," Soren said, shaking his head.

"It matters not. There will be no help forthcoming from Phoenicis. The bird tribes, once united, are now at war with one another," Kurth said with a grimace.

"Naturally," Soren intoned. Ulki turned and scowled at the insensitive remark, but mindful of their mission, did not stop, or even slow.

"And most of my people do not even know where I am," Kurth admitted, ignoring Soren's quip. "Nasir does, but I sent him to Begnion. He will be requesting reinforcements from Begnion, but even if the Holy Guard were to set out immediately after Nasir arrived in Begnion, flying unhindered, it would take nearly three weeks for them to reach us from Sienne. They wouldn't arrive until several days from now, at the earliest."

"Not necessarily," Morgan interrupted suddenly, another thought occurring to her. "When do you think Nasir arrived in Begnion?"

"He reached our ship about ten days ago, and set out after a day's rest with the warp powder Harmony had," Kurth estimated. "So about nine days ago. Why?"

"Severa said that Dad was working on some sort of project with Nasir. She guessed that it was a new formula for warp powder," Morgan said, thinking furiously. "It'll be close, but if they started working on it right away, the warp powder could have been finished as soon as yesterday."

"Warp powder cripples those who use it to travel long distances," Priam pointed out. "Weakened reinforcements who can't fight won't do us any good."

"But Dad knows that, too," Morgan argued. "Dad would have instructed them to send their reinforcements early, but to a short distance away from their final destination, so that they could rest until the debilitating effects wore off. I don't think there's any way they could have prepared enough to move an entire army, but if they knew how urgent our situation is, they might already have reinforcements on the way."

"That's an awful lot of guesswork," Kurth pointed out mildly.

"It is," Morgan confessed. "But if I'm wrong…"

"Then this battle is already lost," Kurth finished. "If it's our only chance of keeping Extinction buried, then we don't have a choice."

"The Redeemers' vanguard is relatively small, and while our own force is smaller, we should be able to hold them back for some time," Soren said.

"Tantalus will probably try to force his way past us, too," Morgan added. "The Redeemers will likely try to intercept him, and we should be able to slow both sides down, at least until the rest of the Redeemers catch up. Once they do, things might get a little bit out of hand…"

"If the rest of the Redeemers catch up, and the Begnion reinforcements are still nowhere to be seen, we leave," Soren said firmly. "They won't bother with pursuing us with their goal so near, and there's no reason for us to throw our lives away."

"Agreed," Kurth said calmly.

"We should quicken our pace," Priam suggested. "Our enemies have strength in numbers. We must try to prepare the battlefield to our advantage. It may be the only advantage we can find in this coming engagement."

Soren nodded in agreement. "Hurry, Ulki," he urged.

* * *

"So much for preparations," Morgan groaned, as they descended the final slope and looped around a jutting cliff, arriving at a wide, rocky valley with relatively even footing. There was a large cavern opening roughly two hundred paces away, at the far end of the valley against a tall cliff.

A formidable figure stood before the cavern, clad in matted black armor streaked icy-blue, jagged markings. The markings seemed to move as a shadow swirled in their depths, giving them a bizarrely dark, yet glowing appearance.

Though she hadn't met him before, nor could she see his face through the fierce visor, Morgan immediately realized who this man must be. The visor was unlike any that Morgan had seen before. Two vertical eye slits were separated by a third, slightly longer slit placed over the man's forehead. The mouth of the visor was framed in a series of seven short, vertical slits, too. Eerie darkness peered out from each of the slits, revealing little else. The man stood fully seven feet in height in the bulky armor, and carried a massive sword forged from some sort of dark metal, shaped as if it had been carved from a glacier. His sword was at least as long as Morgan was tall, and seemed ridiculously oversized even in the grip of its massive wielder, who held it steadily in his right gauntlet.

"That must be Charon," Soren mumbled. As he did, he glanced around at his party. Most of his party seemed to be eyeing the formidable, armored swordsman uncomfortably, but Harmony blanched visibly, for she alone knew the extent of Charon's power.

"Dragon King!" Charon hailed Kurth respectfully, in a commanding voice. "You are not needed here. Tantalus and his crimes are our affair. You may leave this place, confident that the megalomaniac will be dealt with appropriately."

"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Kurth said cautiously. "I don't believe we have met."

"We have not," Charon confirmed readily. "It is mere misfortune that our paths must cross here. My associates and I prefer to keep to ourselves."

Kurth's eyes narrowed. "I know of many who would disagree, such as those who once lived in a small village not far from here. Only, they are no longer with us, are they?" he challenged.

Charon's head dipped slightly in an apologetic manner. "The fault for the atrocities you speak of lies squarely upon Tantalus. But we, too, are guilty, for failing to control my old companion's ambitions. We shall redeem ourselves by putting an end to his schemes here."

"You would blame your actions upon Tantalus?" Harmony demanded incredulously. "Charon, we _know_ it was Medea who sacked Silent Grove!"

Charon laughed cruelly. "It's great to see you again, Harmony. You too, Symphony. I'm disappointed that you two seem to think so little of me, but I know of the deep mark Maelstrom left in his wake. I suppose I can't fault Harmony for being so jaded. Nevertheless, your betrayal is forgiven. You are welcome to seek your own road, so long as it doesn't cross paths with my own."

"If your only objective is to keep Tantalus from retrieving Extinction's essence, then our courses do not collide," Kurth said cagily. "For now, we don't need to be enemies."

"You misunderstand," Charon said. "I am not asking you to leave. I am demanding it. Should you refuse, I will be left with no other recourse. You are outnumbered, Dragon King."

"Your part is ended," another voice rang out, as a gust of wind gently lowered an elderly, bearded man clad in elegant red robes. Four large, dark metallic rings spun in the air idly around him, and he carried an ornate, gemmed platinum scepter.

"Relic," Kurth acknowledged, recognizing the old spirit charmer from the previous encounter, and the Dominion Scepter that Relic still carried.

Relic's spell also carried another of Charon's allies, a woman wearing a white silk robe, opened in the front to reveal a tight black leather bodice. Medea descended elegantly the ground, and brandished a gold and silver scepter towards Kurth menacingly. "I beseech you, Dragon King. Refuse Lord Charon," she teased. "I do so enjoy showing fools to their graves."

The three Lodestars stood apart, forming a perfect equidistance triangle with Charon standing at the tunnel entrance. As soon as they were in position, each of the three drew a staff that looked similar to the rescue staves that Morgan and Soren both carried.

All three of the staves shattered simultaneously, each emitting a blinding flash of light. When the magical light faded, phantoms appeared beside all three of the Redeemers.

A gold-plated phantom armed with a massive poleaxe and a silver-plated phantom armed with nothing but its heavy metal gauntlets towered at Relic's sides. Both armors were adorned with skull-like visors, and sparking gemstones shined from their bracers: sapphires for the silver phantom, and rubies for the gold phantom.

Medea also had two phantoms of her own, though these two stood in front of her defensively, and were identical to the one Morgan had battled back in the Redeemer encampment, forged from whitish metal and each carrying two slim, curved swords.

Finally, three phantoms had appeared beside Charon. These were forged from pure darksteel, and appeared pitch black, though they had been trimmed in gold. Their visors were different from the other phantoms, appearing similar to Charon's. The closest of the three drew a leaf-bladed darksteel sword in its right gauntlet, as spheres of golden fire enveloped its left. The other two followed suit, and all three brandished their fine blades in measured, defensive stances.

To seal the Redeemers' apparent advantage, clattering footsteps from behind announced the arrival of two dozen Redeemer swordsmen, lightly armored and thus quickest on their feet.

"They have more reinforcements waiting," Harmony hissed quietly, indicating the rescue staff that still hung on Charon's belt. "That staff has been augmented with greater range, and is backed by Charon's considerable magical strength. He can summon another willing ally to his side from as far as a mile or two away."

"Now that's a terrifying thought," Soren said, chuckling sardonically. "They have an entire army on its way, but I suppose now that Charon can bring _one_ of his soldiers to his side instantaneously, we should back off and reconsider."

"You really should," Charon suggested, somehow overhearing Soren despite the long distance between them. "I would rather not make an enemy of you, Soren. Nor you, Dragon King. Leave us. I assure you, Tantalus will never find Extinction's essence."

"An easy promise to make."

A skeletal bird-like phantom descended a short distance from the cave entrance, less than ten paces away from Charon. As it reached the ground, Tantalus swung down calmly from his perch on the phantom's back. "What a wonderful reunion this is," he crowed. "Lovely Medea, and dear old Relic. Harmony and Symphony, too! Symphony, how are you, my dear boy?"

Upon seeing Tantalus arrive, Charon immediately brandished his sword, and a swirling sphere of crackling black and icy-blue energy gathered in Charon's left gauntlet. "Tantalus!" Charon roared menacingly.

"How crude," Tantalus said, sounding disappointed. "Are you so afraid of being proven wrong, Charon? Do you still fear the realization that entrusting Maelstrom to Symphony was a mistake?"

"You have something of mine," Charon informed him, ignoring the jibe. He rushed forward, sweeping the massive sword downward as he went. Tantalus didn't move, or even flinch, but the phantom that had carried Tantalus to the valley rushed forward, absorbing the attack and crumbling to the ground in golden flames.

"And you mean to take it back by force. How utterly predictable," Tantalus said, again in a tone of supreme disappointment. "But don't you see, Charon? I orchestrated this battle a long time ago, and I was ready for you and your feeble lackeys." Tantalus snapped his fingers and called out, "Phantoms Aquila!"

Eight more of the great bird-like phantoms swooped down from the sky, each bearing a stone ring more than six feet in diameter. When they were only a few feet from the ground, they dropped their burdens. As the stone rings touched the ground, they came to life, with golden flames rippling across the ring. Another six bird-like phantoms then descended, each carrying a much larger phantom shaped like a skeletal bear, just as numerous wights began crawling forth from Tantalus's eidolon gateways.

"I thought we'd make a party of this sordid affair," Tantalus said nonchalantly.

* * *

The moment Tantalus's phantom minions, bearing the eidolon gateways began their descent, Morgan found herself reflexively formulating a plan for the chaotic battle that now seemed inevitable. She didn't have much time, though, and just as her attention turned to how best to fortify the entrance, Soren addressed the matter loudly and commandingly.

"Morgan, the battle out here is yours," Soren barked. "Hold the valley as long as you can, destroy as many enemies as necessary, but when the situation spirals out of control, retreat…"

"Up into the mountains," Morgan agreed hastily, for Soren's orders mirrored her thoughts almost exactly. "Along the passes up there," she added, hastily pointing out the three escape routes that seemed most viable.

"King Kurth, Priam, and I will handle Tantalus and Charon. If you are forced to retreat, recall us with your staff," Soren finished. Kurth nodded in agreement, and he and Priam set off immediately, following Soren as they rushed across the valley.

"Just like old times then," Lucina said, smiling in spite of the messy situation. "What's our plan, Morgan?"

Morgan paused for a moment, hastily adjusting her plans, for she had planned on Priam leading the charge against the axe-wielding phantom. "Lucina, Severa, Owain. The three of you will go after the sorceress and her sword-wielding phantoms," she decided, starting with the other Redeemer instead.

"Medea," Harmony supplied helpfully. "Be wary of her magic."

"Have you fought her before?" Morgan asked quickly. Harmony nodded. "You too, then," Morgan decided. "Watch out for those phantoms. They're incredibly fast."

"The rest of us are going after Relic?" Celera asked eagerly. Morgan nodded slowly, and though she had not heard the details of the battle on Dragon Island, she guessed easily enough that the fiery Laguz had a grievance of sorts against the old mage.

"Be careful. His powers are vast," Ulki, always the voice of wisdom, warned. "He is no ordinary mage."

"And those phantoms are more powerful than they look," Symphony added, as he eyed the silver-armored phantom apprehensively.

"Lionel, I want you to find a safe spot. Use your bow whenever you can, and try to keep the Redeemers and the eidolons from overwhelming us on either front," Morgan instructed. She turned to Iris. "Iris, what weapon do you use?"

"I… I don't really use a weapon," Iris admitted. "Just this pendant, which helps drive away nearby foes." As she spoke, she invoked the pendant's magic and brought a starlight elemental to her side. After marveling at the conjuration for several seconds, Morgan tore her attention forcibly away.

"Perfect. You stay with Lionel then, so the pendant can keep both of you safe." But the shimmering appearance of the elemental gave Morgan another idea. "Wait, take this with you too," Morgan amended hastily, as she passed over the second Thani tome Micaiah had given her. "Maybe you can use it."

"Okay," Iris agreed nervously, as she accepted the tome.

"Good luck," Lionel added, flashing Morgan a confident grin before he set off to find a vantage point, Iris fluttering close behind.

"All set?" Celera demanded impatiently. When Morgan nodded, she grinned broadly. "Time to tear the wretched sorcerer apart then," she cheered happily, before gracefully transforming into a black-feathered hawk. With a loud screech, she tore through the air, spiraling towards Relic.

* * *

At first, Lucina and her companions approached Medea methodically, expecting Medea to strike first with her devastating light magic after their last encounter. But Medea smiled and watched their measured approach with an air of unconcern, fully confident in her two phantom bodyguards. Only Harmony was familiar with this type of phantom, and privately thought Morgan's warning had been a bit of an understatement.

Severa's patience wore thin rather quickly, and when Medea still made no move towards them, the lancer charged forward, barreling past Lucina with Passion drawn. With blinding speed, the first of the two phantoms leapt to intercept her, and even being forewarned, Severa only just managed to deflect the phantom's brutal attack routine.

"Sev!" Lucina called out in horror as she saw the phantom burst into motion. She raced forward to Severa's side, but couldn't quite reach her side before the second phantom intercepted her.

Owain took the wiser course, sliding to the right so that Severa and the phantom she battled stood between him and the one now engaging Lucina. Once he was certain he could approach without interference, he rushed to Severa's aid, drawing his own darksteel sword as he went. "My sword hand twitches!" Owain cried out as he neared, hoping to divert the phantom's attention somewhat.

"Then do something useful!" Severa shouted angrily, as the phantom seemed to take no notice of Owain's battle cry. But Owain was already moving as she spoke, and his sword plunged downward only to be caught by a sudden, precise reversal. In a flash, the phantom managed to turn Owain's sword aside and positioned itself deliberately between him and Severa, separating the two, each of its blades whirling independently of the other, keeping both of its assailants at bay with apparent ease.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Medea taunted. "My dear Phantoms Astra, and the shimmering instruments of their dance," she marveled.

Harmony charged right past the phantoms, thinking to strike directly at Medea, but changed her mind abruptly when she noticed Lucina faltering in her duel against the second phantom. Medea's gleeful laughter grew only louder when she saw Harmony frantically scrambling to Lucina's side just in time to keep the princess from being thoroughly eviscerated.

"Dance all you'd like, darlings," Medea said silkily. "Enjoy what time you have left. Before long, you'll find peace, and perhaps then you'll understand the depths of your foolishness."

"Just shut up," Severa spat, as she retreated a step from her opponent, watching the sword carefully. The sword snaked out predictably; as long as the sword was, it was still shorter than Severa's lance, and the phantom tried to compensate with its longer arms. As soon as the sword extended though, Severa angled her spear perpendicular to it and moved ahead, carefully forcing the blade away before she plunged Passion's tip into the phantom's chest.

Her sword merely bounced off, leaving only a minor dent. "Damn it," Severa swore, as she was forced away once more. Her attack had drawn the phantom's attention though, and Owain seized the opportunity to strike the phantom beneath the arm, where most armors usually had a seam. Last Wish bit into the seam, and there was a loud screeching noise as Owain twisted his sword and jabbed it deeper. And then the sword went spinning away from his grasp as the phantom agilely bashed Owain over the head with the hilt of its own weapon. Owain managed to skitter away, narrowly avoiding the phantom's next attack and retrieving his sword as he went.

Severa only had time to spare Lucina and Harmony a fleeting glance before the phantom consumed her attention fully once more. But that brief moment was enough to convince her that neither of the other two women were faring much better than she was. They needed another solution.

One came to mind as soon as she glanced at Medea once more and noticed the undisguised glee on the sadistic spirit charmer's face. "An egotistic spell caster," Severa mumbled thoughtfully, as she continued to parry the phantom's relentless attacks. Suddenly, following a successful parry, Severa reversed her lance, slamming the butt of the shaft into the phantom's visor.

She knew her attack wouldn't do any lasting damage to the phantom, but all she needed was to alarm Medea a little bit, and provoke her into attacking, too. "Typical, cowardly mage," Severa taunted loudly. "Standing behind her useless minions, watching them die while she cowers from foes." As Severa spoke, she narrowly sidestepped the phantom's next attack, then lightly jabbed the phantom's wrist. The angle was wrong, and Passion's head bounced off harmlessly, but to the inexperienced observer, it again looked as if Severa was finding a way through her foe's defenses.

That proved to be enough. "Insolent wench!" Medea barked angrily, reacting violently to Severa's apparent scorn. A blast of light erupted from her tome and shot toward Severa, but Severa was too quick, rolling to the right and hiding herself behind the phantom. In the same motion, she kicked out powerfully with both legs, upsetting the phantom's balance and throwing it into Medea's spell.

"Owain, now!" Severa cried out, as she found her footing.

Owain was already in motion, leaping over Severa and burying his blade deep into the phantom's shoulder, throwing his weight behind the blow. "Brace yourself!" Owain proclaimed. To give the phantom credit, the blow didn't cut through as cleanly as Owain had hoped, and only sank a few inches into the phantom's chest plate. But the phantom shuddered under the weight of the blow, and Severa took the opportunity to line up Passion at the same dent she had left earlier, before thrusting it forward with all her strength.

Both of them dove away a moment later as another light spell ripped by them, but this time, when they recovered, they converged upon the remaining phantom. Seeing that Lucina, Severa, and Owain had the remaining phantom under control, Harmony turned away quickly and sprinted at Medea, determined to keep the sorceress at bay.

Even as Harmony approached her former compatriot, she realized that they were running out of time. More Redeemer soldiers had spilled through the mountain passes, including one of the escape routes Morgan and Soren had noted earlier. Some were caught up battling the eidolons Tantalus had summoned, but a good number of them were headed in their direction. To make matters worse, the eidolons, too, were closing in.

* * *

The Nighthawk's shrill battle cry became a strangled, agonized shout as Relic casually flicked a burst of lightning in her direction, grazing her as she banked hard to avoid it. "The price of complacency," Relic mocked, as the lighting coursed through Celera and brought her to the ground.

"Celera!" Ulki cried out in alarm. He tried to rush to her side, but was forced to turn aside as a second spell soared right by him. He wasn't nearly as fast as Celera, and the lightning grazed him, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Unity found in death," Relic said gravely, as the rings swirled into a new pattern.

Morgan didn't wait to see what he had in mind, and invoked her light tome. A wave of light cascaded downward upon Relic, and Relic howled in pain as the blinding energies exploded around him. The runes on Relic's robe flashed, doing their best to resist Morgan's spell, but they were clearly insufficient.

Symphony leapt forward, drawing his two sickles as he went, evidently hoping to put a quick end to their dangerous opponent. The phantoms charged, intercepting him, and only Celera's timely recovery kept Symphony from being fully surrounded. The two hawks closed in, intercepting the golden phantom, leaving Symphony to contend with the silver phantom. The gold phantom's axe cut through the air furiously, keeping both hawks at bay, as Symphony fell back under a relentless barrage of punches.

These phantoms weren't nearly as fast as their dual-wielding kin, and Celera was quick to punish the apparent weakness. She swooped around one missed attack, and her talons dug viciously into the golden plated armor, scraping off the outer layer and revealing the iron beneath. After finding a solid grip, she flipped the phantom through the air, throwing it to the ground before it could strike at her. "Take that!" she cried triumphantly.

"Flaming spirits, now rekindled!" Relic retorted as his rings shifted. A barrage of icicles showered Celera and Ulki, forcing them away, leaving the phantom untouched. "Phantom Sol, rise anew!"

Morgan fired another light spell off, hoping to interrupt Relic. This time, Relic reacted in time, summoning a thick stone barrier above him to catch the plummeting projectile of light. Meanwhile, the golden phantom burst into flames, which flickered and died as quick as they appeared.

The phantom climbed to its feet a moment later. The gouged and battered armor had melted around the wounds, allowing the menace to mend itself haphazardly. It looked haggard, but it seemed ready to fight on once more.

"It doesn't stay dead," Morgan realized. She was certain that Relic had not had the time to aid the phantom, which could only mean the phantom was regenerating on its own. "You have to destroy it completely! Tear it apart after-" she bit off the rest of her sentence as Relic sent another barrage of icicles at her.

The two hawks got the gist of her instructions, though. Having beaten the phantom once already, neither hesitated in tearing into the phantom once more, hoping to finish it off before their transformations wore off.

"Get back!" Symphony interrupted with a sudden, panicked shout. In his first battle with the silver phantom in Wilderness's Edge, he had been armed only with an old farming sickle. His two-bladed scythe proved far more effective, and the silver phantom now bore several vicious wounds. Its silver skull-like visor was cracked, and its fabulous, sapphire studded bracers were thoroughly battered. Blue flames gushed forth from its wounds ominously. "It's going to explode!"

Symphony's companions reacted immediately, and only just in time. "All action is reaction," was the only explanation Relic offered, the last word being drowned out by the noise of the silver armor bursting apart.

The explosion had conveniently put an end to Phantom Sol as well, leaving Relic standing alone. But if Relic felt any fear, he hid those feelings well as he rearranged the four rings suspended magically around him.

Even as Morgan prepared to assail Relic once more, she noted that the battle on the far end of the valley, where Charon and Tantalus were, had only grown worse. "Can you handle him?" Morgan demanded urgently.

"With pleasure," Celera said grimly, forestalling Ulki's protests.

"Go," Symphony agreed, understanding immediately that some of their companions were trapped in predicaments far more dire.

Morgan nodded and hurried off, hoping that she wasn't too late already.

* * *

Tantalus stared at Charon hatefully. Charon met his stare evenly, wearing a similar expression concealed by his visor. Neither of them paid the fighting that had erupted around them any heed. The three darksteel phantoms stood by idly.

"You're no match for me, Tantalus. Accept your fate and let this foolishness be ended," Charon demanded.

"You underestimate me," Tantalus spat bitterly. "You always have. We were partners once, but even then, you never paid me the respect I was due."

Charon laughed harshly. "Is _that_ what this is about? You pathetic, arrogant whelp. Do you truly think I'll give you the time you need to revive Extinction?"

"This 'pathetic' whelp knows something you don't," Tantalus said, grinning deviously. "Extinction was never destroyed, you fool."

"What!?" Charon barked, surprised.

"You see? You have no idea of the power you face," Tantalus proclaimed. "I found a lich here in the forest, and when I restrained it, and traced its existence to a greater power, I knew the truth. Extinction was never truly defeated."

A mighty roar interrupted him, as Kurth swooped down, already having shifted into his dragon shape. Soren and Priam rushed up behind him. Tantalus spared them only a sly glance before continuing his rhetoric. "And of course, this noble, senile old fool and his Daein pup came forth to pledge their support. They, too, underestimated me, and thought me dumb enough to believe that they'd be truly committed to my cause."

"You knew we would never find Extinction," Priam understood aloud. "You were hoping we'd stumble upon wherever Extinction was buried!"

"Clever enough, but I believe we've found a flaw in your plan," Soren said coolly.

"Indeed. For all of your scheming, Tantalus, here you stand, at my mercy. How many more phantoms shall you cast before me?" Charon growled as he readied his sword again.

"None," Tantalus said calmly. "You haven't been listening, have you? Sli'sk!"

An explosion of light forced Charon, Priam, Soren, and Kurth back. When the blinding rays faded, Tantalus was nowhere to be seen, and a slender, winged figure was barely visible as it soared down the tunnel in pursuit of its master.

"Damn you, Tantalus!" Charon swore. He took a step in the direction of the cavern, then seemed to think better of it. He turned to Priam, Soren, and Kurth, but this time, he addressed his words to his three phantoms. "Hold them here!" Charon ordered, as he turned and raced into the darkness in pursuit of Tantalus.

"No!" Kurth growled. He took a deep breath and opened his maw wide, and a devastating, wide ray of dark energy roiled outwards in pursuit of the fleeing Redeemer. The three phantoms leapt aside, avoiding the potent attack, and one extended its left gauntlet. A blazing bolt shot forth.

Kurth had expected the spell to glance off his scales harmlessly, and paid the phantom little heed. He paid for his recklessness a moment later, as the magical projectile exploded painfully against his durable scales, stinging him painfully despite his natural resilience.

Soren sent a gust of wind into the first phantom, but it only managed to throw his target back a few steps. Priam fared better, sending a carefully timed wave of energy that slammed into the same phantom's neck, snapping its helm backward and stretching the protective mesh at the helm's base. Had there been a human beneath the suit, the powerful blow would almost certainly have snapped his neck, but the phantom's head merely tilted and swiveled back to its original position with the mesh oddly stretched.

The remaining two phantoms pounced toward Kurth. One brought his sword cleaving downward, the other led with another blast of fire. Kurth retreated quickly and lashed out with his tail, sending both of the phantoms reeling backward. "Soren, go!" Kurth roared, before unleashing another brutal breath attack, this time aimed directly at the three phantoms.

The beam erupted, and Kurth had managed to catch two of the phantoms in the cloud of black mist. Both phantoms shuddered under the weight of the powerful blow, but they recovered quickly. Still, Kurth's distraction proved sufficient, driving all three phantoms away from the cavern entrance. Before they could resume their defensive posture, Soren sprinted past them, with Priam following in his wake, blasting a phantom aside for good measure with another perfectly timed swing of Ragnell.

Leaving Kurth to deal with three phantoms that had so far proved incredibly resistant to his attacks.

The three phantoms turned to give chase, but before any could take more than a few steps, Kurth descended upon them once more, his mighty talons seizing the nearest phantom. His shimmering black scales rippled as he tightened his grasp on his helpless opponent. The next phantom approached undaunted, but was sent tumbling away as Kurth flung the first phantom into its path.

Kurth then spun to face the third phantom, but he was too late. The razor-sharp edge of the phantom's fine sword bit into Kurth's scales and cut deeply. Kurth fell back, howling in pain, even as another flurry of flames danced forth from the phantom's other hand, striking Kurth fully across the face.

Though phantoms do not truly live, and cannot feel as living creatures do, the sight of an enraged dragon Laguz was enough to take Charon's minions aback regardless. Neither the blindness nor the searing pain restrained the powerful black dragon as he bore ahead to where the phantom that had wounded him had been standing moments before. The phantom hopped away reflexively, but when Kurth's talons found only empty air, he let out a threatening shout and spun wildly, lashing out as far as he could reach. His claws found metal a second later, and this time, he nearly tore the unfortunate phantom in two before flinging it into a nearby wall.

"King Kurth!" a vaguely familiar voice sounded out. "Get back!"

But Kurth was far past his senses, and though he heard the words, they did not truly register. Again he swiped out blindly, but this time, he was less fortunate, and he felt a painful sting as one of the phantoms carefully sidestepped his attack and countered with a forward thrust.

* * *

Guided by the light from Soren's staff, Priam and Soren sped down the tunnels, searching for any sign of Charon or Tantalus. The tunnel split at several points, but Soren never stopped for more than a couple seconds to decide which route to follow, and gradually, they delved deeper and deeper, towards the heart of the mountain.

"How do you know which way they went?" Priam asked, as he followed tirelessly. He remained tense, and he clutched Ragnell's hilt tightly.

"I don't," Soren answered simply, and it seemed to Priam as if his mentor was short of breath.

"Are you alright, Uncle?" Priam asked uncomfortably, noting Soren's distress.

Soren nodded. The physical exertion was taking its toll, but Soren pressed on, recognizing his fatigue and setting the discomfort aside. Partly to distract Priam, and partly because he suddenly felt an irrational pang of guilt for so deflecting Priam's question without giving it any thought, he spoke up again. "Tantalus doesn't know where Extinction is any more than you or I do. The chance of him actually finding where Extinction is buried before we catch up is practically nonexistent, ergo, he doesn't intend to find Extinction."

"But then… what is he after?" Priam asked, bemused.

"He won't have another ally lying in wait, since he only learned about this cave when we approached it," Soren explained. "Which means Extinction is still the only ally he can hope for. He's not going to try to find Extinction, he's going to try to bring Extinction to him. And his decision to enter these tunnels indicates that distance is still relevant. I can't be certain, but I would hazard a guess that his goal is to flee as deep into these tunnels as he can before attempting his ritual." As he spoke, he inspected the next fork they came to, and gestured toward one of the paths. This time, Priam noted that the path Soren had chosen was steeper and wider, making it more likely that it would go deeper.

And then the two of them burst into a far larger cavern. Half of the cavern was covered in lava, glowing faintly and eerily. On the far end of the cavern, there was a cliff maybe eight or nine feet in height.

An armored figure, which Priam and Soren immediately recognized as Charon, stood silhouetted by the lake of lava. "Persistent fools," Charon cursed, as he hefted his mighty sword. In answer, Priam drew Ragnell, and Soren brandished his tome.

Priam prepared to charge, but stopped when Soren placed a hand on his shoulder. "Priam. Can you handle Tantalus alone?" Soren asked quietly.

Priam nodded confidently. "This one's yours, Uncle," he agreed.

He set off in a full sprint, away from Charon and deeper into the cavern, towards another tunnel at the far end. Charon lunged at Priam as he raced past the spirit charmer, but Priam was too quick, and sidestepped the first stroke easily enough.

Before Charon could attack again, a burst of wind slammed into him, throwing him aside. Soren then sent forth a second blast of magical energy, throwing Charon off his feet and giving Priam all the time he needed to escape Charon's reach.

Charon's turned slowly to face Soren. "Some can't wait to die," he pronounced slowly, his voice simmering with rage.

"I've been waiting for death to find me for centuries, but I'm afraid he's proved woefully incompetent," Soren replied flippantly.

Charon laughed then, a horrid, grating sound. "I shall indulge you then. But first…" Charon's free hand reached for his belt, retrieving his empowered rescue staff. Like the other staff he had used earlier, this one shattered after a single use.

A phantom appeared at Charon's side, different from any in the valley above. Its armor was black, but unlike Charon's, it glowed with a metallic sheen and was trimmed in silver. The inside of the phantom's black cape was a rich, blood-red hue, and the phantom carried an elegant, jeweled sword with a gleaming silver blade.

Soren retreated several steps instinctively, gaping at the newcomer in horror. "General Zelgius!?" he gasped, his mind whirling.

Charon wasn't willing to let the window of opportunity slip by, and barreled forward, swiping his massive blade downward. Soren leapt away only just in time to avoid being cut in half. "Not quite," Charon said. "You should know better, Soren. The stories place you in the Tower of Guidance when the Black Knight was slain." He then turned to the phantom. "Phantom Eclipse, destroy Tantalus and the Beorc warrior pursuing him!" he commanded.

Wordlessly, the phantom set off after Priam with remarkable speed. Soren aimed his next spell to intercept the phantom, but Charon quickly shuffled to the side, standing between Soren and his intended target.

"Your life will prove as fleeting as the world you fought so hard to protect," Charon promised grimly.

* * *

Deep in the tunnels of the Flameheart Mountains, guided only by a magically conjured flame, Tantalus knew it was time, and reached deep into his pocket, retrieving his most prized possession. He held it up in his palm, illuminated ominously by the magical light, and savored the moment.

He had known from the beginning that he couldn't have hoped to elude Charon for long, and that his next move would be a bit of a gamble. He could only hope that as deep as he was now, Extinction was near enough for the ritual to work.

Tantalus held up the Entropy Shard and called out to the latent energies within the medallion, energies that had been slowly accumulating for centuries, ever since the end of the War of the Goddess. Much of the artifact's power had been expended in empowering Maelstrom, but the recent plague of Chaos had done much in restoring the medallion's power.

Dark streams of energy gushed forth from the medallion, answering Tantalus's call. The physical manifestation of chaos and war seeped into the tunnels, descending further into the mountains, drawn to a greater power.

"Those who are unworthy will collapse beneath Extinction's ire," Tantalus declared boldly, to no one in particular. "The world will know a new order, where the strong will stand tall, and our greatness will bring an age of enlightenment!"

"Stop!" Priam cried, as he sprinted down the tunnel. A wave of energy leapt forth from Ragnell and soared through the air, slamming brutally into Tantalus. The spirit charmer's robes were magically hardened, though, and deflected the worst of Priam's initial attack.

Even so, the fraction of Priam's strength that carried through threw Tantalus back several steps. "Priam," Tantalus wheezed.

"Yield!" Priam demanded, jabbing Ragnell forward. Though they were nearly ten paces apart, both Priam and Tantalus knew that he could close the distance in a mere instant.

"Let's not be hasty," Tantalus panted. As he spoke, his hand slipped subtly towards a staff on his belt.

But not subtly enough. "Don't try it," Priam warned dangerously.

Tantalus went for the staff anyways. Priam leapt forward and thrust Ragnell ahead, and just as Tantalus's staff came up, Ragnell's golden blade bit through the old man's armored robes. The fine weapon tore a gaping wound in Tantalus's shoulder even as a wave of shimmering lavender light erupted from the end of the staff.

Priam staggered back, reeling from the spell, as everything seemed to sink away into the light. He tightened his grip on Ragnell stubbornly as he searched for some way to escape the blinding, lavender fog.

"I am not your enemy, Priam," Tantalus said firmly. Tantalus's voice was even and calm, and his words resounded through the air, seeming to come from every direction at once.

"An illusion," Priam realized aloud, understanding that there was no way Tantalus could so easily disregard the vicious shoulder wound Priam had inflicted on him. He lifted Ragnell once more, and though he could not see it, he could still feel its comfortable weight. He leveled it forward, preparing to strike again towards where Tantalus had been a second ago.

"You could say that," Tantalus replied. "It's an invention of mine that I call the staff of compulsion. Though in truth, compulsion is not entirely accurate. I cannot compel someone possessed of a strong will, such as you, to do anything. I can only speak to you, mind to mind, and try my best to show you the truth."

"Save it," Priam barked defiantly. As he did, the mist wavered and thinned, and through the veil, Priam could see Tantalus hunched over. The old spirit charmer ignored the blood still streaming from his shoulder as he clutched the staff tightly, eyes shut in deep concentration.

"Please, just hear me out," Tantalus's voice begged quietly, though the man's lips had not moved. "I apologize for deceiving you and your companions before, but my purpose remains true. If you strike me down now, Tellius is doomed. The Redeemers will prove themselves unstoppable."

"We'll stop them," Priam answered confidently.

"Will you?" Tantalus challenged. "Your friends are outnumbered terribly by the Redeemers. Charon has taken to the field personally, as have his remaining two Lodestars. Your friends can't win, Priam. Not without my help. Not without _your_ help."

"I'm not letting you free Extinction," Priam said. "It you truly wish to see the Redeemers defeated, surrender. When this battle is over, you can speak with King Kurthnaga and Queen Micaiah, and anyone else making their stand against the Redeemers. No more games, no more lies."

"I cannot do that. If I give up now, your friends will perish, and Tellius's dreams of peace shall follow," Tantalus said somberly.

"I trust in my friends," Priam insisted.

"They trust in you," Tantalus countered. "As they should. The bloodline of a hero and legend runs through you, Priam. This is your chance to save your ancestral home. Help me turn this battle around, and when the chaos is ended, your name will find its place in the annals of Tellius's heroes, right alongside your ancestor's. You will be the champion and savior that you were destined to be. Even clever Soren will look on you only with respect."

Priam only laughed, as the rest of the mist cleared away, the connection broken. Tantalus opened his eyes slowly, wondering if he had succeeded.

"I don't need a place in history," Priam said calmly, continuing the conversation as if they hadn't been interrupted. "I don't care if the world forgets about me. I fight for what I believe in, nothing more, and nothing less. Right now, I believe that Tellius is stronger than you believe. I _know_ that my friends are stronger than you believe. They will win. Uncle Soren and Morgan will find a way."

"Soren isn't…" Tantalus began, wheezing in pain once more.

"Let me tell you something about my uncle… Soren," Priam said calmly, smiling. "You and Morgan both seem to have the wrong idea. I know better than to seek his approval. I understood the truth years ago. Soren is a broken man, a mere shadow of the great man he once was. I offered to accompany Morgan because I had hoped that luring him here to his homeland could bring light into his heart once more, but even those dreams were short-lived."

"You lie," Tantalus protested weakly. "You care for these people as your own. You care for this _world_ as your own!"

"I do," Priam admitted shamelessly. "Because these people and this world _are_ my own. An ocean doesn't divide a world in two, Tantalus. The Beorc and Laguz here are my people every bit as much as the people of Ylisse, and I will do everything in my power to protect what I believe to be right and just, wherever my path may lead me. Soren is a mirror, who reveals to me the undisguised truth of myself and the imperfections I seek to overcome. I follow him so that one day, _I_, not Soren, will be proud of the man I've become."

Ragnell came up once more. "Yield, Tantalus. Surrender, and live to bring your case before those who you claim to be allied with," Priam ordered.

A quick blur in the darkness, barely noticeable with Priam's torch lying on the ground, was the only warning Priam got as Sli'sk's emaciated, demented form detached from the shadows and shot towards Priam.

But Priam's perfectly honed reflexes were more than a match for Sli'sk's ambush. Ragnell was already spinning, and came to a rest after a complete arc. The projected wave caught Sli'sk and left a terrible gash in the wretched creature's chest. No blood poured through the wound, but the lich stumbled away anyways.

Priam pointed Ragnell at Tantalus once more, but in that brief second of distraction, Tantalus had managed to force himself into an upright position. His right arm was extended, presenting the Entropy Shard.

"Do you recognize it?" Tantalus asked hoarsely, doing his best to hold his voice steady. "Gaze upon the splendor of the Redeemers' greatest treasure. The Entropy Shard, once known as the Fire Emblem."

Again, chaotic energy bled forth, appearing as streams of dark liquid. This time, the trickling energy wound itself around Tantalus's wounded shoulder, and around the injured lich. As both Tantalus and Sli'sk began to crackle with what appeared to be black and red lightning, Sli'sk's cursed body twisted in agony, and Tantalus fell into deep concentration once more, fighting to keep the spirits in his body in check.

* * *

"This doesn't look good," Lionel muttered, though his seemingly endless barrage of arrows never paused. Arrow after arrow soared out from his perch from a small cliff, roughly ten feet in height, jutting out from the base of the nearby steep mountain slope.

Until now, all the battles had seemed to be favoring his friends, none of who were seriously injured except King Kurth. Lionel wasn't too worried for Kurth, either, and knew that the Laguz was probably perfectly fine. The tremendous strength and endurance of a dragon Laguz in his prime was not to be underestimated.

But the strange gateways Tantalus's phantoms had brought into the valley were left uncontested, and the ranks of the eidolons were swelling. Both Medea and Relic seemed to be trying to bring a few of the eidolons to their side, but for the most part, the eidolons were attacking whoever or whatever was closest.

To make matters worse, the rest of the Redeemers had finally arrived, and were clambering around the mountain now. The initial soldiers had been held back by the eidolons, and though many were still caught up in battle, they were steadily making their way closer to Lionel's friends.

"Look out!" Iris called out, as Lionel casually put down another pair of eidolons as they approached where Symphony, Celera, and Ulki were still battling with Relic. Lionel spun at the sound of her voice, and ducked only just in time as a wraith soared over him.

Iris's elemental pelted the wraith with a few minor projectiles, but the wraith stabilized its flight easily enough and spun around for a second pass. Iris seized the tome Morgan had given her and brandished it, hoping desperately that Severa's little sister hadn't forgotten any crucial instructions.

In answer to her pleading mental summons, a sphere of light appeared over the eidolon and crashed down upon it, exploding in a blinding flash. She stared hopefully as the light faded, but found herself supremely disappointed when it became apparent that her spell had only disoriented the wraith. Her attack had drawn the wraith's attention, though, and it shot toward her.

An arrow intercepted it midflight. Lionel didn't stop to watch it fall, however, and drew a second arrow which he sent soaring into a Redeemer fighter bearing down upon their position, who promptly crumbled, dropping the large axe he was carrying. "We can't keep this up much longer," Lionel said, as he realized how quickly his quiver was being depleted. He aimed his next arrow at Relic, wondering if he could safely make the shot from such a long distance.

"Look!" Iris interrupted, pointing skyward.

Lionel obeyed without really thinking about it, and immediately spotted the dark shapes soaring overhead. Not recognizing them at first, he brought his bow to bear, assuming that more wraiths had arrived. But he lowered his weapon a moment later when he recognized the fliers as Pegasus knights and spotted the royal red banners of Begnion.

"Begnion's Holy Guard!" Lionel cried out in triumph. "Morgan was right!"

Both Iris and Lionel watched in awe as Begnion's famed Pegasus knights seamlessly assumed well-rehearsed battle formations. Some of the squads moved to intercept the Redeemer soldiers still streaming into the valley, while others began systematically destroying the eidolons and Redeemers still caught in battle all around.

Three of the Pegasi detached themselves from the rest of Begnion's forces, and Lionel was surprised to see that each of the three carried a passenger in addition to the rider. Lionel watched, bewildered, as one of the passengers leapt down despite remaining fifty feet off the ground. The prince understood when the passenger's hood flew back, revealing a crown of silver-blue hair for a brief moment before the Laguz transformed into a mighty white dragon.

* * *

"King Kurthnaga! No!" Morgan cried out, as she invoked her tome. The light tome Micaiah had provided her with proved a blessing then, as it finished off the heavily damaged phantom approaching the wounded black dragon. But she had struck a moment too late, and its blade had already plunged home into Kurth's side.

Kurth fell back, brought out of his trance at last by the pain and the sound of Morgan's voice. Only then did Kurth seem to realize how badly he had been injured. Obediently, he retreated and began considering his wounds carefully. Just as he was deliberating whether it was safe for him to stay in the battle, Morgan drew her healing staff and sent a wave of healing magic into him.

The staff did its work, mending Kurth's wounds and stemming the bleeding, but for now, Kurth's energy was spent. As one of the Laguz royals, Kurth knew he could remain transformed as long as he wished, but his body felt lethargic. Though Morgan's spell had also eased the stinging sensation in his eyes, allowing him to see once more, everything remained blurry. He was out of the fight for the time being.

"Get back!" Morgan ordered, echoing Kurth's thoughts aloud. The dragon king hastily complied, retreating behind the approaching shape he knew to be Morgan, though he berated himself silently. Unless Morgan was a lot stronger than she looked, there was no way the girl would be a match for the two remaining phantoms alone.

Morgan frowned as she came to the same realization. Priam and Soren were gone, likely down the tunnel in pursuit of Tantalus and Charon. That left her to face the remaining two phantoms alone. She had managed to destroy one, but it had been thoroughly torn and battered by Kurth already, while these two looked mostly intact.

Knowing that she had little choice though, she drew her sword and hoped she could keep the two phantoms occupied long enough for Kurth to recover, or perhaps for her friends to finish dealing with either Medea or Relic.

Her dismay grew as she traded blows with the first of the two phantoms, and quickly learned that her opponents now were nearly as fast as the phantom she had battled back in the Redeemer encampment. Distracted by the first, she almost missed the second phantom launching a stream of fireballs in her direction. The attack came too quickly for her to dive aside, and she only barely had enough time to shield her face protectively with her arm.

The robe Micaiah had given her did its work, turning away the worst of the magical assault, and Morgan quickly presented her sword defensively once more, keeping the first phantom at bay, even as the second began approaching steadily with its own sword readied.

Even as she frantically parried the first phantom's steadfast assault, she invoked her tome once more, dropping a second burst of light in an effort to slow the second phantom. The spell connected powerfully, and Morgan turned her attention to the closer phantom. Eternity slashed cleanly into the phantom's side, but the phantom barely slowed, and Morgan was forced to stumble away, the phantom's sword missing her by a mere inch. The phantom continued its methodical approach, and Morgan scrambled to find her footing in time to prepare herself for its next attack.

A fierce gust slammed into the ground in front of Morgan, scattering dust into the air. The mighty spell threw the first phantom back as well, and put an abrupt halt to its advance.

A hooded man in a fine dark robe, decorated with golden tassels and markings, leapt down following his spell and landed evenly on his feet between Morgan and the two phantoms. As he stood straight and assumed a defensive posture of his own, presenting his own sword, an exact match to Morgan's, his hood slipped back, revealing his platinum-blond hair.

"It's going to be alright, Morgan," Robin assured calmly as he eyed the two phantoms calculatingly, measuring their approach.

Morgan could only stare helplessly at her father, convinced that she was hallucinating.

And then the phantoms struck, each unleashing a precisely aimed burst of flames at Robin. "Look out!" Morgan cried out.

A wave of protective magic washed over Robin just in time, and the two spells glanced off harmlessly. "Time to tip the scales!" Robin announced with a broad grin, as he retaliated with his own tome and sent massive thunderbolt careening into the nearest phantom and throwing it back nearly a dozen paces to crash into the cliff. Pieces of darksteel armor clattered to the ground motionlessly a moment later, engulfed in golden flames.

A second wave of the same shielding magic shrouded Morgan, who looked up to see her mother soaring protectively overhead, with a staff in hand. "Mom!?"

Cordelia merely waved and smiled at Morgan before stashing the staff and turning away, confident that her husband and younger daughter would be more than a match for the remaining phantom.


	15. Chapter 10

**~ Chapter 10 ~**

"Flank him," Robin instructed coolly. As he spoke, he carefully shuffled to the left and readied his sword, leveling his calculating stare towards their unnatural foe.

Morgan said nothing, and only continued staring at her father blankly.

"Focus, Morgan!" Robin urged.

Morgan flinched, snapping out of her stupor at last. "Right," she acknowledged, as she hurriedly stepped to the right, taking up a position opposite of her father and flanking the phantom.

The phantom struck immediately, lashing out with its sword at Robin, its closest target. Simultaneously, it swept its left gauntlet outward towards Morgan, emitting another burst of magical flames.

Morgan knew that between her enchanted robes and the magical shield her mother had placed upon her, the phantom's spell would be entirely nullified. She ignored the blast and thrust her own blade forward, slashing the phantom's extended bracer twice in quick succession. Eternity couldn't quite penetrate the darksteel plating, but it was enough to upset the phantom's balance.

Meanwhile, Robin easily deflected the phantom's blade and countered with another bolt of lightning, hurled precisely into his opponent's skull-like visor. The phantom's head snapped backward, and before it could recover, Morgan called forth her light tome's power once more, smiting the phantom where it stood.

The phantom collapsed into a useless heap of metal, as the last wisps of energy slowly dispersed into the air. As soon as the phantom had been destroyed, Morgan's returned to staring, awestruck, at her father.

"You've learned a few new tricks, it seems. That was pretty impressive," Robin congratulated.

"Dad? What are you doing here? _How_ are you here?" Morgan asked, ignoring the compliment.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Robin retorted with a wide smile. "As for how… it's a long story. Let's save it for after the battle, shall we?"

At his words, Morgan glanced first at Kurth, who had reverted to his human shape. Though he still seemed winded, he certainly looked to be in far better condition now. "I'm fine. Go help Priam and Soren," Kurth said calmly, as he turned to survey the battle behind them.

"Soren?" Robin asked, startled, for he recognized the name immediately. "You can't mean…"

"Come on, Dad," Morgan insisted as she started down the tunnel, with her confused father following close behind.

* * *

A short distance away, Lucina, Severa, and Owain were still locked in their duel with the remaining phantom. Despite having the armored menace outnumbered, the phantom's deadly dance had only grown swifter, forming an impenetrable defense of lethal, whirling blades.

To make matters worse, rays of light magic soared out haphazardly, as Harmony and Medea continued their duel. Neither of the two spirit charmers could find any true advantage over the other; Harmony was nimble enough to avoid the worst of Medea's magical flurry, but the relentless barrage kept her from closing the distance. In hopes of catching her opponent by surprise, Harmony fired off a bolt of lightning from her tome. Medea's only laughed as she fired off another ray of light, her battle garments easily deflecting Harmony's feeble spell.

Their stalemate persisted for several minutes longer, until a pack of wights reached them, having finally overcome a group of unfortunate Redeemer swordsmen. Instinctively, both Harmony and Medea reached out to commandeer some of the attacking eidolons. About half of the wights began fighting amongst themselves, while the other half closed in on the three Ylisseans.

"Gods, curse these stupid things!" Severa raged, as she leapt away from the phantom in order to avoid being pinned down by a pair of wights. She spun in a violent circle, and almost instantly eviscerated both of the offending eidolons. Even before their remains had fully burned away, four more eidolons barreled towards the lancer.

The phantom, now confronted with only two foes, seemed to hasten even further. Quick as she was, Lucina was only barely able to keep the deadly curved blades at bay. Owain, who wasn't nearly as fast, found himself quickly overwhelmed. "I can't keep up with it!" Owain cried out desperately, as he retreated several steps. The phantom, sensing weakness, paced his movements perfectly and went into a wild spin, forcing Lucina back and nearly tearing Last Wish from Owain's grip.

Realizing that her friends were in trouble, Severa twirled Passion fervently, forcibly putting some distance between her and the approaching eidolons. She then turned and vaulted neatly towards the phantom, drawings it attention to her once more. "Owain, keep the eidolons off of us!" she barked.

As soon as the phantom turned to face Severa once more, Owain scuttled away obediently, wrapping around to keep the eidolons from closing in.

As the phantom bore down upon Severa, Lucina took her chance and stabbed Falchion forward, angled upward to strike at the phantom's neck. In a flash, the phantom settled back in a defensive position and easily parried Lucina's attack with one blade, even as its other sword forced Severa away.

A stray fireball soared in, errantly fired by a Redeemer mage at an approaching eidolon. The phantom sidestepped the spell with inhuman speed, and Lucina could only crouch and wrap her arms around her face defensively before the spell connected. Reflexively, Lucina let Falchion fall to the ground as she rolled away desperately, hoping to extinguish the flames. Severa immediately moved to stand between her fallen friend and the phantom. "Lucy!" she cried urgently, knowing that she couldn't stand against the phantom by herself for very long.

"Here I come!" a high-pitched, cheerful voice interrupted. Severa looked up in shock, and dove aside just in time as Cynthia, astride her Pegasus, barreled past with her lance held steady. The phantom tried to spin away, but Cynthia's lance clipped it on the shoulder, knocking it to the ground.

A second Pegasus then swooped in, and Chrom leapt down from behind Sumia. "My turn!" he cried, as he plunged his sword deep into the phantom's chest, impaling it before it could climb to its feet once more.

"Father!?" Lucina gasped, as she recovered her footing.

"Looks like we got here just in time," Chrom said with a broad grin, unable to contain his enthusiasm. To his thinking, it had been far too long since he last felt the adrenaline rush of a real battle.

As the second of her phantoms fell to the unexpected reinforcements, Medea's confidence faltered. Still locked in her duel with Harmony, she looked up to the upper mountain passes, wondering how long it would take for additional Redeemer soldiers to push through Tantalus's eidolons and phantoms. Instead, she saw only blurs of white, red, and gold, as Begnion Pegasus knights swooped back and forth, cutting down Redeemers and eidolons alike.

Knowing that the battle was lost, Medea leapt away and leveled her next spell at Chrom, even as she reached down for a pinch of warp powder to escape the battlefield.

"Father, look out!" Lucina and Cynthia cried together.

Chrom spun around in alarm, but Cordelia had already reached them, and quickly shielded Chrom with the same staff that she had used only moments ago on Robin and Morgan. Medea's spell could only barely penetrate the shield, stinging Chrom slightly.

Seeing that the attacker was about to escape, and knowing that she didn't have time to draw a javelin, Cordelia settled for the next best thing. Just as Medea invoked her warp powder, Cordelia's staff spiraled neatly through the air, bashing Medea over the head. The rifts did their work, whisking away the unconscious sorceress.

Around them, the fighting had lessened dramatically, as Begnion's Pegasus knights regrouped in the center of the valley and swept away the remaining eidolons and Redeemers. Up above, the rest of the Redeemer army was in full retreat.

Sumia and Cynthia both landed beside Chrom, Lucina, Severa, and Owain, while Cordelia quickly retrieved her staff and inspected it for any sign of damage. A small bloodstain indicated that, as always, her aim had been true.

"I don't think that's how Robin meant for you to use that staff," Sumia remarked, sounding quite amused.

"I didn't have time to grab a javelin," Cordelia said defensively.

"Mom?" Severa said, staring at her mother, eyes wide.

"Hello, Severa," Cordelia said cheerily. "I like your new look." When Severa continued to gape at her, she answered her unspoken question. "Your dad is with Morgan."

"But what about the other Morgan? And little Severa?" Severa demanded, panicking slightly.

"Lissa and Frederick are looking after them, and little Lucina and Cynthia too," Sumia replied brightly. "Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be fine for a few days."

"A few days? We're at least a thousand miles from home!" Lucina protested. Even as she spoke, she wondered how her parents had managed to find a way to cross the ocean so quickly.

"Remember that old Grimleal portal we found a few years ago in Plegia?" Chrom answered with a grin. "Robin's been trying to get it working ever since you and Severa set out after Morgan."

"So _that's_ what he needed Nasir's help to build," Severa realized.

"Yeah. But whatever you do, don't ask Robin about it. He'll talk your ears off trying to explain how it works," Chrom said, chuckling. "I swear, Miriel's ability to be completely incomprehensible is rubbing off on him."

"He seemed pretty certain that Morgan would understand," Cordelia said, as she craned her neck, searching for her husband and younger daughter. "Strange… where _are_ they?"

At her words, the others all looked around, their panic growing as they realized that neither Morgan nor Robin were anywhere to be seen.

* * *

Symphony, Celera, and Ulki had Tantalus outnumbered three to one, but if the unfavorable odds were at all discomforting to Relic, the spirit charmer hid his feelings well behind his enigmatic smile. Wide gouts of flame and powerful, short-ranged torrents of water kept both hawks at bay easily enough, as Relic spun to face them, intentionally leaving an apparent opening.

Symphony was quick to leap past Relic and strike from behind, but Relic had predicted that exact maneuver. Without turning, Relic willed his rings to shift once more. "Patience shall forestall defeat," he announced calmly, as a conjured stone barrier appeared and shifted outward, slamming into Symphony and pushing him away.

Celera's frustration mounted as Relic drove her back again and again. The old spirit charmer's constant spell casting left no openings for her to approach. "You can't hide from us forever!" she cried out angrily, as again, she was forced to bank hard to avoid a wave of magically conjured fire.

"Beware time's falling sands," came another cryptic taunt.

Behind Relic, Symphony, too, was growing steadily more frustrated. Relic was barely even acknowledging the warrior's presence, though earthen walls continued to appear out of thin air, keeping him from attacking.

Only Ulki understood Relic's intent, but that understanding did him little good. Though she was technically a Laguz royal, Celera had yet to develop the ability to remain permanently transformed. Ulki's transformation, too, was limited. Relic's magical arsenal didn't have to last forever, just long enough to outlast the two hawks. Already, Ulki could feel the strain of transformation in his old bones, and knew that he would be out of the fight soon enough.

But before Ulki could voice his fears, Relic noticed his moment of distraction. "Smote by war's flames!" the spirit charmer proclaimed, sending forth another jet of flames. This spell took the shape of a draconic serpent, and wrapped violently around Ulki before erupting into a devastating, fiery blast.

"Ulki!" Celera cried out in horror, and she threw herself forward furiously to keep Relic from finishing the older hawk off. Relic was ready for her charge, and a bolt of lightning struck her head on. Celera plummeted to the ground below, twitching uncontrollably as the energy coursed through her paralyzed form. Beside her, Ulki's head lolled against his shoulder as he lay on the valley floor, unconscious, having reverted to his human form automatically.

Celera forced herself to her feet once more, but her transformation had reached its limit, and she, too, reverted, appearing as an athletic, unarmed young woman once more. She scowled at Relic, her eyes burning with hatred, but both of them knew that in her human form, there was little she could do to him.

The spirit charmer dismissed her anger with a sneer, and turned to face Symphony head on, calling forth another stone barrier.

But Symphony didn't relent. Images of his friends, both those who remained among the living, and those who had fallen at the hands of the Redeemers, flooded his mind, and at that moment, he didn't care that he was sorely outmatched. Both of his sickles continued to spin wildly as he executed a dazzling routine, slapping both blades against Relic's barrier repeatedly. Both sickles suddenly came together, a calculated movement that combined the two into a longer scythe once more. One blade latched onto the stone barrier and with a mighty tug, Symphony forced the barrier aside, stabbing forward with the scythe's second blade.

Relic fell back, unalarmed at first. But while Symphony's impressive display did little to shake Relic's confidence, Nasir's arrival was another story altogether. As Nasir plummeted downwards from his perch behind one of Begnion's Pegasus knights, his form twisted and grew. Relic called to the shield, shifting it in front of him once more, but the mighty white dragon's breath merely spilled around the barrier, forming a bubbling pool of magical energy at the old spirit charmer's feet. Only Relic's heavily enchanted robes kept him unharmed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Relic saw Medea flee the battlefield. He couldn't blame her, for this little excursion had quickly deviated from Charon's plan. He wasn't surprised; it was the nature of warfare, after all.

Despite the losses they had undoubtedly sustained, the old spirit charmer wasn't too dismayed. Charon was still in pursuit of Tantalus, and there was no question in Relic's mind which of the two would emerge victorious. The rest of the Redeemer soldiers were in full retreat already, and their surviving forces would likely escape intact. They had what they came for and the battle had just about reached its end.

But Relic had one last card to play before vacating the battlefield himself. It was one that he had hoped to reserve for Harmony instead, given that Symphony was no longer using his spirit pact efficiently. "'Twas meant for another," Relic lamented aloud, as he drew the Dominion Scepter.

"You do realize we aren't eidolons, right?" Symphony asked dryly, even as he wondered what Relic's intent was in drawing the weapon. Given Relic's age and seemingly frail body, it seemed unlikely that Relic would try to match either the young warrior, or the dragon in physical strength.

And indeed, that was the last thing on Relic's mind. With a mere thought, he invoked the scepter, aiming its energies at Symphony. The scepter became translucent and insubstantial, and Relic's fingers slipped through the image of the scepter, suspended exactly where he had held it moments earlier.

Symphony stiffened, then collapsed where he stood, unconscious.

"Symphony!?" Celera cried out in shock, as Nasir threw himself protectively in front of the fallen man. But he needn't have worried. The scepter became solid once more, and the weapon fell into Relic's waiting grasp. Suddenly, the area around them was blanketed in darkness.

"No!" Nasir growled in protest, as he lunged at Relic again. His claws passed through Relic harmlessly as Relic became as unsubstantial as mist, drifting back several paces. Nasir advanced another step and reared his head, meaning to pursue, but stopped when he noticed the supernatural darkness writhing around him.

"His pact is sundered," Relic gloated, as he drew his warp powder and invoked it. Rifts appeared, wrapping around the old spirit charmer and whisking him away. The unnatural gloom continued to squirm eerily, until it at last formed itself into nearly a dozen wights.

Nasir struck first, immediately blasting away two of the wights. As he did, he threw a clump of Olivi grass to Celera. Celera caught it dexterously, and immediately ingested the strange weed. The herbs quickly replenished her ability to transform, and she became a hawk once more. She soared swiftly to Nasir's side, tearing savagely at the remaining wights.

The effects of the Olivi grass were temporary, though, and with two wights remaining, both Celera and Nasir reverted to their human forms. Celera backed away immediately, as Nasir seized Symphony's unconscious form.

A stream of arrows soared past them, as Lionel emptied his diminishing quiver into the nearest wight. Likewise, Iris invoked the tome Morgan had given her, dropping five consecutive blasts over the remaining eidolon.

As soon as the last of the eidolons crumbled away, Iris dropped the tome and raced to Nasir's side. "Symphony!" Iris cried, terrified.

"He's alright," Nasir assured quietly. "Just unconscious. He should be fine." He didn't quite understand what had happened, but he thought it prudent to keep those doubts to himself, for the time being.

* * *

Deep in the tunnels below, Soren and Charon stared at each other, illuminated only by Soren's torch staff and the meager light cast upon them by the pool of lava. Each seemed to be goading the other into making the first move, though privately, Soren was wondering how he could force his way past the Redeemer. Priam could probably handle Tantalus alone, especially with the protective talisman Micaiah had given him, but the arrival of Charon's phantom was disquieting. If Phantom Eclipse was anywhere near as powerful as the Black Knight had been, Priam would be pushed to his limits and beyond.

"Your life is forfeit!" Charon roared suddenly as he exploded into motion, having grown bored at last. He strode forward and swung his massive great sword overhead mightily, aiming to cleave his opponent in half. Soren hopped away easily enough, and the heavy blade cut through the air harmlessly before burrowing several inches into the stone floor below. Despite the warmth from the nearby pools of lava, the ground seemed to freeze over around the mark the weapon left.

Soren retaliated with a quick gust of wind, striking Charon squarely. Charon didn't even flinch as the spell connected, and only spun a complete, clockwise arc as he swept his blade in a mighty circle, forcing his opponent to retreat another step.

Undeterred, Soren called forth wave after wave of wind magic with practiced ease, hammering away at the Redeemer, each spell striking more forcefully than the last. Charon fell back a few steps under the weight of Soren's fury, but countered by calling to his own innate powers.

Soren's next howling gales struck against mighty waves of frost, forming a violent, churning storm of hail and sleet, blinding and defeating both combatants for several long seconds.

"Not bad," Charon conceded grudgingly, when the storm died down. "But you are only wasting my time."

Soren didn't dignify the taunt with an answer, and in fact, only barely heard Charon's words at all, for he had fallen into a state of perfect concentration. As Charon pressed the attack once more, Soren quickly played through every one of his opponent's possible moves.

Every one of Charon's attacks fell short, and every missed slash or deflected spell was countered with repeated, violent bursts of wind magic, eliciting a few grunts of pain. But Charon didn't slow, and both combatants came to the same, inescapable conclusion – Soren could not hope to outlast Charon.

"You know you are beaten," Charon said, sounding amused as he recognized the doubts in Soren's eyes.

The Redeemer's amusement faded a moment later when an intense bolt of lightning thundered past Soren, slamming into him and throwing him back several paces. Morgan then followed her father's spell by invoking Thani, the light magic overcoming Charon's armor where her father and Soren's anima magic could not. Standing behind Morgan, Robin angled his own torch staff higher to cast light upon the fallen Redeemer, even as he readied another spell.

"Enough of this," Charon growled, crawling to his feet once more. Remarkably, his armor remained intact. The lightning seemed to have done very little, although Charon was still trembling as the last wisps of light from Morgan's spell faded away.

Lightning, light, and wind struck again. Charon threw his left arm forward defensively, conjuring a shimmering barrier of ice to deflect Robin and Soren's spells. The barrier shattered, throwing small shards of ice in every direction, but the spells were thoroughly defeated.

He then spun and threw a similar barrier upward, but Morgan's spell cut through. Charon flinched, but the delay was only momentary. With a roar, Charon's silhouette seemed to split apart. He fell back, leaving almost a perfect image of himself that appeared to have been molded from ice. Strange shadows spiraled and weaved through its frozen form, contrasting the glowing golden eyes embedded in the simulacrum's head.

"This day just grows stranger with each passing minute," Robin sighed. "Do either of you know what that _thing_ is?"

Neither Morgan nor Soren had a chance to answer, as Charon's frozen double leapt forward, charging them and brandishing its sword the same way Charon himself had. The sword, too, was molded from ice, and though it retained the same shape as Charon's mighty weapon, a cloud of frozen mist hung over it, moving with the blade and leaving slight streams of tiny, frozen crystals.

Satisfied, Charon set off for the far side of the cavern, clinging to the shadows.

* * *

Priam raised his blade, preparing to strike the spirit charmer down, but faltered when he saw that both Sli'sk and Tantalus were paralyzed by their struggles with some unseen force. After the initial spasms, Sli'sk had fallen limply to his knees, and now stared blankly ahead with empty, unseeing eyes. In contrast, Tantalus seemed to grow more and more agitated with each passing second. His veins throbbed visibly and violently, and his hands clenched and unclenched again and again, as his entire body twitched uncontrollably.

"And as he lay defeated, at the feet of the Radiant Hero, Mad King Ashnard reached for the stolen Fire Emblem, welcoming the madness, inviting it to consume his mind," Priam whispered softly, remembering the story of Ike's battle against the Daein sovereign.

"No!" Tantalus growled determinedly. "The E-Emblem… will… not… have me! The Emblem…is… m-mine!"

"What have you done, Tantalus?" Priam asked, horrified and unable to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. He gripped Ragnell tightly, expecting Tantalus to lose control soon enough. The stories claimed that Mad King Ashnard had maintained some semblance of control after touching the cursed medallion, but Tantalus had gone a step further, actively inviting the latent energies to flood through him.

"Y-You… are… a mere… t-tool! I… I am the master!" Tantalus shouted, outraged. The medallion pulsed again, and another wave of crackling red energy merged with the black and red glow surrounding the spirit charmer. Abruptly, Tantalus grabbed his tome, and Priam reflexively leapt away.

But the warrior's caution was unnecessary, for Tantalus seemed unable to hold his arms steady. Tantalus held up his tome, a dark magic tome bound in dark violet leather, but his spell soared out in completely the wrong direction, splashing against a wall and leaving several cracks.

Jets of aphotic energy then snaked out from the tome itself. One whipped against Tantalus's other arm, causing the spirit charmer to recoil in pain. Several tore into the ground or roof of the cavern. Two more of them narrowly missed Priam, who sidestepped them easily, as another slashed across Sli'sk's face, leaving a wicked scar. The lich didn't even flinch, and continued kneeling there, unmoving.

"Stop!" Priam cried.

But Tantalus was too far gone.

The spirit charmer looked at Priam, his eyes glowing first with hatred, and then distorting oddly as the last hints of sanity caved under the weight of the medallion's power. In a single, fluid motion, Priam rushed up to Tantalus, closing the distance between them, and thrust Ragnell forward, running the spirit charmer through.

As Tantalus collapsed, the madness seemed to leave his eyes, leaving only a final despairing look of denial.

Priam withdrew Ragnell and turned to face Sli'sk, but Sli'sk had already hurled himself through the air at the young warrior.

Unlike Tantalus, Sli'sk had been broken by the spirits long ago. And unlike Tantalus, Sli'sk's wretched, distorted caricature of a soul had assimilated the chaotic energy of the Fire Emblem without complaint, save for an instinctive scream. The spirit charmer, in his throes of confusion, had retained his mental grip upon the lich, leaving it paralyzed.

But no longer.

Sli'sk's bare hands slapped futilely against Priam's armor, but Priam fell back in alarm nonetheless, giving Sli'sk the time he needed to transform. His form shrank slightly, and his skin and flesh seemed to melt away. His ebon skull seemed to stretch and distort, too, becoming more animalistic, but halfway through the transformation, the energy engulfing Sli'sk pulsed one last time, interrupting the transformation halfway.

Priam slashed outward, and called to Ragnell, sending forth a brutal wave of energy. The rippling wave slammed into the horrid monstrosity, throwing it back several steps. With a horrifying, cracking sound, Sli'sk turned his twisted skull, caught somewhere between that of a human and that of a rodent, and dove forward, biting at Priam with razor sharp fangs.

The blue haired warrior easily dodged aside, and struck again, slamming Ragnell into the creature's misshapen skull. But to Priam's surprise, it felt as if he had struck a brick wall. Ragnell bounced off, sending painful shocks down Priam's arms, as Sli'sk recoiled from the mighty blow.

Sli'sk then shot upwards, soaring so quickly on his bony wings that he slammed into stone ceiling above them. The lich gestured forward with both arms, and a web of energy, shimmering white light mixed with black and crimson lightning, erupted out of thin air. Priam's talisman flashed as he staggered back under the weight of the brutal spell.

Before Priam could retaliate, Sli'sk became translucent, and shot forward, emitting a high-pitched, inhuman scream. The ghostly silhouette passed through Priam, and darkness seemed to swallow the world around him. Even the torch he still held could cast no light through the magical shadow.

Twelve ghastly images appeared, standing in lines of six, parallel to Sli'sk's course. Less than a fraction of a second later, the twelve images emitted their own screams, leaving a ringing sensation in Priam's ears. The images rushed inwards, slamming into one another and exploding into hundreds of fragments of lights, crackling with the same black and crimson lightning from before. Priam only just managed to throw himself to the ground in time to avoid the blast.

Even as Priam recovered his footing, Sli'sk was upon him once more, slashing and tearing savagely at Priam with his bony claws. The skeletal digits had twisted into talons, though like the rest of Sli'sk's demented form, the transformation remained incomplete. Priam backed away, ignoring the pain and remaining calm as he took advantage of Ragnell's reach, slashing against the lich and forcing it back.

Sli'sk fell to the ground for a moment, then propelled himself high into the air. He lifted his arms over his head and spread them wide, then clapped them together forcefully. Two diagonal waves of magical energy slashed forward, forming a perfect cross shape, and rushed out towards Priam's head.

Priam instantly knew he could not hope to retreat in time, and instead rolled towards the spell, sliding through the opening beneath the cross. As he came out of his roll, Ragnell sent another wave of force upward, striking Sli'sk and knocking the lich out of the air. The lich plummeted to the ground, landing a few feet away from the warrior. Priam leapt at the lich and brought Ragnell down upon Sli'sk's sternum, throwing all his weight behind the blow.

Sli'sk's ribcage folded and shattered beneath the weight of Ragnell's blade. Hastily, Priam backed away as the undead monster flailed wildly.

"Scum! Hate! Tear! Punished!" Sli'sk wailed incoherently, in an unearthly voice that reverberated throughout the cave tunnel. Its skull now upside down, it stared hatefully at Priam, its golden flaming eyes flashing with rage as it continued to twitch, its limbs finally beginning to slow. "Kill you!" he spat viciously.

And then the skeletal creature seemed to crack and shatter into a million pieces. The golden flames grew brighter, hungrily consuming the broken bits of cursed bone, before dissipating and leaving nothing but a small pile of blackened ash.

After staring at the fallen lich for several seconds, Priam let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. He began to move towards the fallen Redeemer, thinking to retrieve the medallion, but he quickly changed his mind, remembering that he had left Soren facing the Redeemer's mighty leader alone. "The Fire Emblem can wait," Priam decided, before turning and retracing his steps.

* * *

Cautiously, Robin stepped forward to face Charon's frozen simulacrum, drawing his sword as he went. He angled Eternity carefully, maximizing his leverage to compensate for his enemy's apparently superior strength. Even then, as the massive, frosted blade clashed against Eternity's silver edge, the veteran tactician was preparing to back away if his adversary proved _too_ powerful.

A wave of cool air washed over him, chilling him to the bone and stealing his strength. Robin scrambled away as soon as he felt the unnatural chill, but the simulacrum's sword had already connected, and nearly wrenched Eternity from Robin's grasp. To make matters worse, not only did the simulacrum radiate intense cold, its blade had left tiny crystals of ice clinging to the edge of the tactician's sword. Robin wasn't entirely sure whether cold temperatures would make silver as brittle as it did steel, and he wasn't interested in finding out the hard way. "Keep your distance!" Robin warned, as he backed away further, sheathing his weapon.

Soren only rolled his eyes, for he had never intended to approach the frozen monstrosity to begin with. Instead, he, too, backed away carefully before blasting away at the simulacrum with his wind tome. His conjured winds tore into the fiend, showering the air with small, jagged shards of ice.

In answer, the simulacrum seemed to wrest control of the tempest from Soren, forming a protective sleet storm around itself just as Robin fired off his thunder tome. The concentrated bolt of lightning struck against the swirling bits of ice and splintered, forking away in a dozen directions at once. The simulacrum simply ignored the few bolts that slipped through.

Morgan grasped her light tome tightly, readying a spell of her own. As tempting as it was to use fire magic against her icebound foe, the frozen simulacrum couldn't be nearly as susceptible to heat as it should have been, given that the nearby pools of lava kept the entire chamber uncomfortably warm. Unfortunately, her light tome's magic was wearing thin. Silently wishing that she had given this tome to Iris instead, keeping the untouched tome for herself, Morgan brought Thani forth once more. Its magic exploded all around them, suddenly flooding the cavern with light, as the simulacrum recoiled in apparent distress.

Encouraged, Morgan gathered her strength and fired off another spell, and then a third. Each time, the simulacrum fell back another few steps. When the light cleared, several cracks had appeared, stretching across the frozen menace's armored form, and cool mist were pouring forth from the cracks, escaping the crumbling creature.

The simulacrum charged, anyways, but had only gone a few steps before another bolt of lightning thundered into it. It swung its already damaged arm up to block Robin's attack, but this time, the spell proved too much for it to resist, and the simulacrum's arm shattered entirely.

Weakened as it was, the simulacrum offered only the feeblest resistance when Soren brought forth a whirling cyclone, lifting the frozen monster into the air and throwing it backward.

There was a loud hissing noise, as Charon's simulacrum landed atop the viscous, molten rock behind it and began to melt. Large plumes of steam billowed through the air, as the simulacrum, unable to feel any sort of panic, calmly tried to regain its footing. The extreme heat proved too much, though, and before long, all that was left of the simulacrum was a patch of darkened, cooled lava.

"Soren, where's Priam?" Morgan demanded, as soon as the last of their adversary melted away.

"He went ahead to deal with Tantalus. Hurry!" Soren said urgently, setting off hastily. "Charon sent a phantom after him, and must be headed that way himself, now, too!"

Robin and Morgan exchanged nervous glances, then quickly followed suit, rushing across the chamber behind Soren.

"Priam's a capable warrior," Robin reminded gently, when he noticed his daughter's worried expression.

Morgan only nodded, trying her best to cast her doubts aside. "That's right," she agreed quietly, speaking mostly to herself. "No phantom or Redeemer is going to outfight Priam."

As Soren overheard the younger tactician's words of self-reassurance, his lips grew thin. He could only hope that Morgan was right, and that the formidable appearance of Charon's phantom was deceptive.

* * *

Priam's march came to a halt as he stepped into a medium-sized chamber connecting three tunnels. It was the only fork that Priam had found on his way to confronting Tantalus. Now, an armored figured stood at the center of the chamber, apparently unsure of which path to follow. Priam's torch was burning low already, but was enough to reveal the glossy, silver-trimmed black armor, and cast flickering, elongated shadows of the mighty armored warrior against the rough cave wall.

Priam instinctively knew that his opponent was yet another phantom. Something about the armored foe felt supernatural and distinct, even though it lacked the skull-like visors worn by the other phantoms, and the armor itself appeared more normal, as if it had been designed for an ordinary human.

The phantom turned to face Priam, then, and a vibrant, golden flame burned brightly, shining out through the small slits in the phantom's visor. As one, Priam and the phantom reached for their swords, brandishing their blades. The elegant, jeweled silver blade seemed hauntingly familiar, and Priam found himself mesmerized by the beautiful weapon that bore a stunning resemblance to Ragnell.

"Alondite?" Priam whispered, remembering the legend of his weapon's sister blade. He studied the knight more carefully then, noting the phantom's fine black and crimson cloak.

This was the Black Knight's armor and weapon, then. Priam wasn't certain how the legendary warrior's armor had fallen into the hands of the Redeemers, nor how this phantom had come to stand between him and his friends, but somehow, Priam knew that this was the armor that had belonged to his ancestor's nemesis.

As if to confirm Priam's suspicions, Phantom Eclipse swung Alondite in a wide, overhand arc. Just as Priam had done countless times, the phantom conjured forth a devastating wave of force, hurling it straight at the young warrior.

Having used a similar weapon for so long, Priam knew exactly how to party the attack, and held Ragnell forward defensively, perpendicular to Alondite. The phantom's attack struck against Priam's sword with enough force to send the young warrior staggering backward, but most of the strength behind the shockwave had been thoroughly diffused.

"Though I had never imagined that such a test would come to pass, I suppose it is rather poetic that Ragnell and Alondite clash once more," Priam said ruefully, shaking his head. Even if he had been well-rested, the thought of battling even an apparition of the legendary Black Knight was intimidating enough. Weary as he was from his confrontation with Tantalus and Sli'sk, this encounter seemed even more disconcerting.

But he smiled, and shook away any doubts of his own worthiness, casting aside his torch to free his other hand. The flickering torch landed neatly at the center of the room, a few feet away from the phantom's fine greaves, illuminating a small ring in the center of the cavernous chamber.

"For the blue flame!" Priam cried.

* * *

Fortunately for Charon, he had reached the chamber just as Priam cast his torch down, and the Redeemer remained hidden in the shadows along the edge of the chamber. One part of Charon urged him to destroy the foolish warrior outright, but the thought of enjoying the spectacle from the sidelines was equally tempting.

In the end, with some reluctance, Charon slipped along the edge of the chamber, past Priam and Phantom Eclipse. His objective, the Fire Emblem, was simply too important. He could always return at a later date to retrieve Phantom Eclipse, and witness the mangled corpses of the powerful phantom's victims.

* * *

Priam charged ahead boldly, Ragnell leading the way. Phantom Eclipse was quick to bring Alondite forth to parry, and the gold and silver blades crossed. Priam threw all his strength behind the weight of his sword, and was gratified to see Alondite quivering beneath the weight of his blow, but try as he might, he could not force the phantom back.

Instead, Priam broke away and swept his blade horizontally, emitting a wave of force. The phantom held Alondite vertically, perfectly perpendicular to Priam's strike, neatly emulating the warrior's earlier parry. The phantom charged forward aggressively as soon as Priam's attack failed, launching into a quick flurry with amazing speed and precision.

Undaunted, Priam faced the assault head on with equally precise parries, deflecting each and every blow. Ragnell slid along Alondite's edge, before striking its sister blade's hilt and bouncing askew, slapping against the phantom's head. The phantom recoiled momentarily, leaving an opening which Priam was quick to punish. Ragnell dove in low, battering the phantom's armored leggings.

Priam was forced away a split second later, as the phantom charged again, spinning gracefully and launching two quick diagonal slashes. Priam rallied gamely, shooting another wave of force to divert the phantom's blade. He charged, following in the wake of his projectile, though at the last second he hopped to the right instead, finding an opening and plunging Ragnell directly into the phantom's breastplate.

"I have you!" Priam cried out triumphantly, as Ragnell slammed into the phantom's chest, leaving a large dent. It wasn't a mortal wound, and wouldn't have been even against a living, human opponent, but it was the advantage Priam needed.

With Alondite held at the phantom's side at a poor angle, Priam circled his opponent counterclockwise, attacking relentlessly with newfound vigor. The phantom spun furiously, trying to keep up, but each parry seemed less solid than the last as Priam gathered his momentum, waiting for the right opening.

* * *

Light exploded into the chamber as Soren led the way down the tunnel, his staff illuminating the entire room. Neither of the two combatants, who had now been pushed to the far side of the room, were distracted by the light, though Priam smiled, realizing that his apparent advantage had been sealed by the arrival of reinforcements.

Robin and Soren both lifted their tomes, readying their spells. Morgan reached for her own tome, mirroring the other two mages, but froze as she spotted a sudden, subtle shift in the phantom's grip on Alondite.

Time seemed to slow as Morgan's mind whirled furiously, trying to remember why the two combatant's and their current stances seemed so ominously familiar. Finally, just as the phantom's silver blade shot forth unpredictably and pushed Ragnell aside, Morgan remembered.

Suddenly, she was no longer watching her friend battle against an armored phantom. Instead, she was reliving another battle, fought atop the fell dragon's back, when Chrom and Lucina had locked in battle with the fell dragon's avatar. The battle where Chrom had almost been slain by Grima's clever reversal, and their struggles had nearly come to an abrupt and devastating end.

"Priam, look out!" Morgan cried out, terrified. Priam's expression, too, had become one of horror, as he realized what had happened.

But Morgan's warning had come too late. Robin and Soren both fired their spells, but neither lightning nor wind could slow the phantom in time. With blinding speed, Alondite flashed forward, tearing into Priam's armor and throwing the wounded warrior back. Before Priam could even begin to recover, Phantom Eclipse advanced and struck again, and then a third and fourth time in quick succession.

A final, clean sweep completed the perfectly executed maneuver, and buried Alondite deep in Priam's chest. Priam stared at his victorious opponent, and though he tried to cry out in denial, he could no longer find his voice. They held the frozen tableau for several painfully long seconds.

Then the phantom extracted Alondite, its tip shining with the fallen warrior's blood, and Priam collapsed lifelessly to the ground, Ragnell slipping from his grasp. Ignoring its first victim who lay dying at its feet, the phantom calmly turned to face its newest opponents.

* * *

"Priam! No!" Morgan screamed. Without a second thought, she drew her fire tome, and sent forth a massive blast of fire. Even before the first spell connected, Morgan sent forth two more, and each of the three fireballs soared unerringly through the air, slamming into and exploding against the powerful phantom.

The phantom didn't even flinch. Unfazed, it drew back Alondite and sent forth a wave of energy.

"Look out!" Robin cried, throwing himself against Morgan and sending her sprawling. He tried to tumble aside, too, but was too slow, and the wave of force clipped his left shoulder, tearing a deep gash and throwing him aside. He grunted in pain, but forced himself to his feet almost immediately, sending forth a burst of lightning, just as Soren unleashed a gust of wind. Both spells connected, and the phantom took a step back, but was otherwise unfazed.

Ignoring the phantom for now, Morgan ignored her fire tome and instead drew her staff of healing, knowing that Priam was well within range. Even as she called upon the staff's power, though, she knew that it was in vain. She couldn't even be certain if Priam was still alive, and even if he was, he was definitely beyond the reach of any healing magic.

_Almost_ any healing magic, Morgan realized, as Queen Micaiah's words flooded back to her.

Morgan set aside her ordinary healing staff, too, and drew the Unity Staff that Queen Micaiah had insisted they bring. But even as she called to the staff's powers, she felt the slightest twinge of hesitation as she remembered the staff's conditions.

The staff must have sensed her reluctance, for there was no answering call. Despairing, Morgan looked pleadingly to her father, hoping that perhaps he had an answer for her.

Robin was still dueling with the phantom as best he could, though his magic could not seem to penetrate the phantom's armor. With his wounded shoulder, it was clear that the tactician was sorely outmatched.

Soren stood a few paces away, having already extricated himself from the battle. The branded mage had his own staff drawn, and there was an uncharacteristic glint of pain and fear in his eyes, as he quickly came to the same conclusion as Morgan had. But in his despair, Morgan saw the faintest flicker of hope. Soren did care for Priam, after all.

"Soren!" Morgan called. Soren turned at the sound of her voice, and as soon as she had his attention, Morgan tossed the Unity Staff to him. "We'll hold the phantom off! Go!"

The branded mage caught the staff dexterously, and wordlessly sprinted past Morgan, rushing to the fallen warrior's side.

Putting her fears for Priam out of mind for now, Morgan retrieved her healing staff and sent its magic forth, mending her father's torn shoulder. Then, she turned to face the phantom, taking comfort in her father's presence beside her.

* * *

Upon sensing Morgan's approach, the phantom spun immediately, swiftly releasing another wave force at Morgan. The young tactician threw herself to the ground, but again, the phantom proved too quick.

"Morgan!" Robin cried out, as Morgan stumbled back, turning away as she did. The blow still connected, but Morgan's protective garment did its work.

"I'm fine!" Morgan gasped, though she knew from the sting in her left arm that the blow would leave a wicked bruise, at the very least. Pushing past the pain, Morgan racked her mind frantically, trying to remember what Priam had told her about Ragnell's ranged capabilities. "Stay close! It's just as deadly from a distance!" Morgan warned, hoping she was right in her guess that the phantom's sword was similar to Priam's.

Trusting his daughter's words, Robin drew his sword and advanced bravely. The phantom met its challenger fearlessly, and Robin almost immediately found himself on the back foot, parrying desperately and throwing bolts of lightning at every opening. The phantom seemed to shrug off his magical assault, and retaliated with its own relentless, brilliant swordplay.

Still, the phantom was outnumbered and flanked. Morgan rushed forth, throwing a fireball to distract it and buy her father some time to get away from the phantom. She drew her own sword as she went, and slashed at the phantom's shoulder, fully expecting her attack to do little more than distract the phantom. She was not surprised when Eternity bounced off of the phantom's pauldron, and retreated quickly as the phantom launched its counterattack.

That was the only opening that Robin needed. Many veteran swordsmen would have backed away to catch their breath and reassess the situation, but Robin had already determined his next move, and as soon as the phantom turned away from him, his own sword stabbed forward, aimed precisely for the seam beneath the phantom's left arm.

Even as Robin's thrust connected, the phantom slammed Alondite downwards into Morgan's blade. Rather than trying to avoid the blow altogether, Morgan had braced herself defensively, hoping to buy as much time for her father as possible.

But Morgan's sword was no match for the legendary Alondite, backed by the phantom's superhuman strength. Morgan cried out in shock as she stumbled away, clutching weakly to what was left of her sword as the force of the blow reverberated through the shattered weapon, numbing the young tactician's arms. Fragments of the ruined silver blade fell to the ground haphazardly, with a clattering noise.

Unarmed and weakened, Morgan could only scramble away as the phantom continued its relentless advance.

* * *

To Soren's surprise, Priam was still conscious, and even managed a weak smile as Soren drew near.

The earlier attempts at healing magic had already done what it could. Though blood still stained Priam's damaged armor, and pooled around the fallen warrior, his wounds had been staunched for now. Soren knew that outwardly, at least, the young man's wounds had been healed.

But the sound of Priam's labored breath belied his true condition. He was only just alive, and not for much longer.

"I'm… s-sorry," Priam wheezed, as Soren kneeled at his side.

Soren said nothing, and lifted the golden staff, holding it so that the diamond-encrusted idol rested only a few inches above Priam's chest. Priam's eyes widened slightly as he saw the staff. "No…" he whispered hoarsely.

"Quiet," Soren ordered, closing his eyes and reaching mentally for the staff's power.

"Uncle… don't," Priam pleaded, and each word seemed like an incredible effort from the dying man.

Soren didn't answer, for he wasn't much in the habit of taking advice from Priam to begin with, and only continued to concentrate as the latent powers of the staff began to respond. Before long, he could feel Priam's life ebbing away. He meant to speak up then, to urge Priam to cling to life more tightly for only a few moments longer, but the staff's magic had forced its way into his mind, bringing every doubt and every ounce of disappointment to bear, challenging the old tactician's conviction.

Priam only chuckled weakly as he saw the struggle on Soren's face. "It's alright, Uncle," he managed, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Worry not for me."

"Damn it, Priam!" Soren cried out in frustration, as he tried to fight his way past the staff's apparent resistance. "You're not dying here!"

Abruptly, the resistance Soren felt in his mind was gone, and Soren nearly let out a sigh of relief as he gazed down expectantly. But as he did, he noticed something was wrong. The staff's magic had died away entirely, it seemed. Instinctively, he reached out to the staff again.

The magic was still there, but it lay dormant. Try as he might, Soren could not bring its power forth.

In an act born of frustration, Soren hurled the staff to the ground hatefully, cursing it and the goddess that had supposedly blessed it.

"It's alright," Priam whispered again. "It's alright, Soren."

Soren's throat felt dry. "I'm sorry, Priam," Soren said, in a voice as weak as Priam's. He tried to look at Priam, but found himself looking away almost immediately.

"Nothing… to apologize… for," Priam said, growing weaker once more. He closed his eyes and seemed to struggle for breath. "I'm no hero… after all… am I? I… failed. He must be… rather… disappointed."

"He wouldn't be disappointed," Soren assured, even as he shook, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He knew without asking who Priam must have been referring to. "You're a good person, Priam. You're kind to those around you, and you offer your respect and love even to those who never deserved it. No one, not even Ike, could have asked for anything more."

Priam's gaze slowly shifted to the side, to where Ragnell still lay. "You'll… find it… a new owner… won't you?" he pleaded. "Someone… worthy…"

Soren reached for the sacred weapon and lifted it. Then, to Priam's surprise, the tactician laid the hilt gently in the dying man's palm.

"The sword belongs to you, Priam," Soren said, trying to find his composure. "You _were_ a hero, Priam. You put your life on the line for a world that wasn't your own, and for people that don't know you. Not for glory, not out of pride, but for your friends, and for what you thought was right."

A faint smile crossed Priam's lips as he closed his eyes once more and drew one final, ragged breath.

And then he lay perfectly still, never to move again.

* * *

"Morgan, get away from it!" Robin cried desperately, watching in horror as the phantom paced Morgan in her retreat.

Morgan was already attempting to do just that, but her efforts proved futile. She could only remain just a few steps out of the phantom's reach, and each swing cut closer than the last. She couldn't turn and run, either, for Alondite's magically extended reach would certainly find her if she did.

Robin's desperate attempts to pry the phantom away were to no avail. As fine a sword as Eternity was, it could do little more than scratch the phantom's seemingly impenetrable armor. Abandoning the idea, Robin pulled forth his tome and fired off blast after devastating blast of lightning into the phantom.

His efforts went unrewarded, and the phantom pressed on, closing in on Morgan, who was quickly running out of options.

A wave of force soared over Morgan, slamming into the phantom, stunning it momentarily.

Relief flooded Morgan, as she turned, expecting to see Priam rejoining the fray. The relief faded as quickly as it had come, when she saw Priam laying motionlessly at Soren's feet. The old branded tactician held the sacred blade himself.

"Morgan!" Soren cried out to her, just before he slid Ragnell across the uneven cavern floor. The blade came to a rest right beside her, and she quickly retrieved it.

The phantom had already recovered and struck again, Alondite battering against Ragnell. Unlike Eternity, Ragnell withstood the mighty blow, and with all her strength, Morgan managed to push Alondite aside. Morgan slid forward, crouching so that Alondite would slash harmlessly overhead, and brought Ragnell stabbing upward, striking into the phantom's chest, precisely where Priam had damaged it earlier. This time, Ragnell's golden blade cut through the durable armor.

As soon as her attack connected, she backed away immediately, leaving Ragnell lodged in the phantom's breastplate, and unleashed the last of her light tome's magic. The phantom was thrown back by the powerful blast. Wind and lightning magic followed, slamming into Phantom Eclipse from both sides, driving it to its knees even as Morgan discarded her expended tome.

Neither Robin nor Soren relented, and both mages pressed their magical assaults until Alondite finally slipped free of the phantom's grasp.

Morgan rushed for the fallen weapon, and Robin and Soren, understanding her intent, held their next spells as the young woman grabbed Alondite and lifted it overhead. The prone phantom looked up at her as she closed in, but could do little more than stare at her menacingly.

The young tactician swung the gleaming silver weapon downward, driving the tip of the blade through the phantom's pauldron. She meant to drive the sword further, cutting the phantom in half entirely, but given her small stature, even mighty Alondite couldn't quite tear all the way the phantom's chest. Instead, it came to a rest beside its sister blade, leaving the phantom impaled by both of the sacred weapons.

The armor of the legendary Black Knight shook violently, as golden vapor streamed from its many cracks and the slits of its visor. Finally, it crumbled apart, leaving both swords and the many pieces of armor strewn the chamber, amidst the shattered remnants of Morgan's sword.

Morgan only spared the fallen phantom the briefest glance, before she turned to Priam's fallen form. The young man laid deathly still, and Morgan could only stare pleadingly at Soren, begging him to tell her that she was mistaken.

Soren only bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes, having no words of comfort to offer.

* * *

Deeper in the lightless tunnels, Charon approached Tantalus's prone form without hesitation, somehow able to see the fallen spirit charmer despite the suffocating darkness. If he felt any sentiment towards his former companion, he hid it well, as he rooted through the gory mess dispassionately, reclaiming the Fire Emblem. Satisfied, he retrieved a pinch of warp powder, ignoring the bloodstains that his now-crimson gauntlet left upon the pouch and the remainder of his warp powder.


	16. Epilogue: The Promise

**~ Epilogue ~**

**The Promise**

"Soren."

Soren opened his eyes, recognizing the voice at once. His logical mind told him that it was impossible, and that she couldn't be standing here in his tent, but lost as he was in his own thoughts, reason found no purchase on his distressed mind.

A woman stood dimly illuminated by the hint of sunlight that had found its way through the thin canvas material of Soren's tent. She looked old, but Soren knew that it was not age that had snowed white hairs upon her head, nor was it time that had plagued her kindly face with wrinkles. She smiled when she saw Soren studying her carefully. "Do I look so terrible?" she asked teasingly.

"As beautiful as ever," Soren said wistfully. "And not so tired anymore."

The woman smiled sadly. "Death is not so tiring, Soren."

Soren closed his eyes. "You're not really here, are you?"

"How could I be?" the woman answered simply.

"Priam is gone," Soren said quietly. "I wouldn't save him."

"You _couldn't_ save him."

As if there was a difference, Soren thought.

"There is a difference," the woman insisted, replying as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "You tried your best, as unwise as it seems."

"Unwise?" Soren asked, his voice finding a hard edge. "You don't think I should have tried to save him?"

"I think you have forgotten to live," the woman answered, wearing a small, sad smile. "How many decades have you spent now, watching over not just Priam, but those who came before him, hoping to learn to love them and care for them? Your heart has grown cold, Soren."

"My heart has always been cold," Soren whispered.

"You know that's not true," the woman scolded gently. "There used to be things that you cared about. _People_ that you cared about, no matter how hard you tried to pretend otherwise."

"I tried to keep my promise," Soren said, closing his eyes as tears streamed down his face. "I tried to move on."

"Then why did you stay?" she asked gently. There was no accusing undertone to her voice, but the words stung nonetheless.

"I couldn't leave," Soren admitted. "I tried to leave it all behind me, and to let all of you go. But try as I might, I couldn't… forget. I'm sorry…"

"Now why would you want to do a foolish thing like that?" the woman teased. She smiled reassuringly, and though Soren's eyes remained tightly shut, he could still see her expression with perfect clarity, haunting him now just as she had haunted his dreams, century after century. "Beautiful memories cannot be cast aside so easily."

"Beautiful?" Soren whispered. "I can't hide from them. I can't stop seeing you in my dreams, or hearing Nestor's voice…"

"Or wondering what Grandfather would think if he was watching over you," she finished softly.

"I've been searching for an answer for so long," Soren continued hoarsely. "Hoping to find a light. A promise of a better future. But there's nothing waiting for me out there. Only emptiness."

"No one can truly know the future, Soren. Not even you," the woman said. "You've been staring into the darkness for so long that it has shrouded you, hiding your hopes and dreams."

Soren sighed deeply. "You're right. The future has blinded me. But I can't just push away what I know, any more than I could leave the past behind me," he said.

"Then don't push it away," the woman urged. "Don't fear what you know. Accept and embrace it, and live in the present. You've been blessed with such a long life, and yet you waste it, hiding from the future."

"Not a blessing, but a curse," Soren muttered.

"It is not!" she protested, her tone growing heated for the first time. "Soren, think of all the people you hold dear, the people who have made a difference in your life. Don't you understand? You've done the same for each and every one of them. How much more could you do in the time you have left?"

"For how many centuries?" Soren demanded, frustrated. "How much longer must I linger, finding the tiniest slivers of hope, only to have them crushed, again and again?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," the woman said calmly. "Life cannot be measured in years alone. In the short decades we shared, Soren, and in the decades you and Nestor spent wandering Ylisse, you were alive. More alive than you've been in the past centuries, ever since…"

"Ever since I lost Nestor," Soren said, defeated, closing his eyes once more. "I know… but I'm tired now. Tired, and yet I cannot rest."

"But you can. You could have stopped at any time," the woman reminded. "You _didn't_ stop, because you know the truth. No matter how often you tell yourself there's nothing left for you in this world, you know it's not quite true."

"I had hoped it wasn't true, but it was a fool's hope, forever lying just beyond my reach," Soren said listlessly.

"You will never truly replace what you lost, Soren," the woman whispered sadly. "You will never find anyone or anything that can completely fill the void we've left in your heart. Only when you can accept that will you find yourself a light to guide your way, a warmth to thaw your heart, and a life worth living. Promise me, Soren. Promise me you won't give up."

Soren said nothing, and the darkness seemed to close in around him then as his dream faded back into a quiet, undisturbed slumber.

* * *

"Soren."

Again, Soren awakened at the sound of his own name. He opened his eyes blearily, and realized he must have slept much longer than he had meant to. The light pouring through his tent was bright, silhouetting the woman standing over him.

"What do you want now, Eirene?" Soren asked, feigning exasperation. He almost laughed aloud as he realized the absurdity of it all. Here he was, trying to argue with a dream. So much for moving on.

"Huh? Who's Eirene?" the woman asked, in a confused tone.

Soren sat up, startled. It wasn't Eirene standing before him after all, but a familiar looking woman with long, vibrant red hair and inquisitive, dark eyes, clad in an elegant white, gold-trimmed robe.

"Morgan," Soren greeted, recognizing her at last.

"Are you alright, Soren?" Morgan asked, looking concerned. "It looked as if it took you a good five seconds to remember my name."

"I'm fine," Soren insisted. "Merely tired. What do you need, Morgan?"

"It's time," Morgan said softly.

"Time for what?" Soren asked automatically, not quite following. Morgan didn't answer, though, and the lack of an answer, coupled with the sorrowful expression was reminder enough. "Of course. Sorry. I didn't mean to sleep for so long," Soren said quietly, as he climbed to his feet.

Morgan said nothing more as Soren quickly donned his robe over his dark tunic and leggings, and together, the two of them stepped out of the tent a moment later, heading to a nearby clearing.

* * *

Morgan and Soren were the last two to arrive in the peaceful meadow, populated by a single, vast tree.

The once verdant meadow remained a bit of a mess. After learning of Silent Grove's fate, and after Soren led them to where the remains of the unfortunate villagers had been shoddily buried, the Begnion Holy Guard had been more than willing to help recover the bodies and grant them a proper burial in the cemetery beside the village's church. They had done their best to restore the small meadow to its former beauty, but only time could bring back the withered, overturned grass and wildflowers.

The only disturbance that remained was a carefully dug, empty grave, complete with a simple but elegant headstone, lying at the center of the clearing, beneath the flower-laden tree.

Morgan stared into Soren's stony expression for some time, but Soren gave no indication that he noticed her look of concern. Still, Morgan knew he had noticed her, and gave him what she hoped was a comforting look before stepping away and joining her mother and sister. Soren remained silent and motionless at the edge of the clearing, staring at the headstone behind the empty grave.

A pair of Begnion's Pegasus knights stepped forward, joined by King Kurth, Prince Lionel, the Nighthawk, and Robin. The six of them carried between them a fine casket woven from long, fallen branches, which they laid gingerly into the grave.

Soren caught one final glimpse of Priam's peaceful, satisfied expression, just before Kurth respectfully covered the casket.

The two Pegasus knights, the Daein prince, and the Phoenician princess backed away respectfully. Robin, too, stepped back, though he remained near the grave, fiddling with a small scroll.

Kurth stared at the headstone, wondering how to proceed. He had asked Soren, as the person undoubtedly closest to Priam, to offer a brief eulogy, but the branded tactician had barely spoken since leaving the valley, and had deliberately ignored the Goldoan king. For several seconds, Kurth considered offering a few kind words himself, but any words that came to mind felt insincere and hollow.

He turned and looked pointedly as Soren, hoping that Soren had changed his mind, but Soren only shook his head slowly, again declining the silent offer without giving it a second thought.

With a sigh, Kurth turned back to the grave once more. "Thank you, Priam," he said quietly. "There is no repaying your sacrifice. We can only hope to carry your torch forward, and finish walking the road which we began together. May the goddess find you and carry you to your ancestors, holding you close forevermore."

Kurth, too, then stepped away, and everyone in the clearing bowed their heads respectfully, offering a moment of silence to the fallen hero.

The two Pegasus knights stepped forward once more, as did Robin and Kurth. Each took one of the nearby spades into their hands, and soon, the casket was hidden beneath a mound of freshly loosened soil. The others then backed away, as Robin approached the grave alone and carefully set Ragnell, the legacy of the Radiant Hero and Priam's pride and joy, into a slit left at the base of the headstone.

He then unfurled the scroll he had been carrying, and read off a few arcane words that not even he genuinely understood. As soon as he finished the incantation, a glossy sheen seemed to cover the headstone and sacred weapon, sealing Ragnell in place.

* * *

The silence following Robin's spell persisted for some time after the completion of the ceremony. No one made any move to leave for several minutes, as everyone paid their respects to their fallen comrade. Even those who had never truly known Priam seemed to be affected profoundly by the loss. To the people of Tellius, it was simply all too surreal. The Radiant Hero had disappeared into legend, seemingly for good. Now his legacy lay before them, immortalized alongside the legendary Ragnell.

Robin frowned thoughtfully as he rejoined his family. He, too, felt a dull ache as he gazed upon the grave. He had only met Priam once, and only long enough for a sparring match followed by a shared meal. But that knowledge did little to ease the gnawing discomfort.

Morbid thoughts of another funeral came unbidden to him, a funeral which he himself could not remember. Years later, he still wasn't entirely certain what his own funeral had been like. He had never even asked, for in truth, he didn't really want to know. The thought of how much more painful a ceremony like this could be for those who truly knew and cared for the deceased sent an involuntary shudder down Robin's spine. Instinctively, he reached for his wife's hand, holding on to her tightly even as he mentally offered her yet another silent apology.

Shaking those thoughts away, he turned and shot Morgan a worried look, knowing that she had likely become far closer with Priam in the few months they spent traveling together. Sure enough, Morgan was staring at the grave, her expression bearing a mixture of guilt and regret. But the young woman maintained her composure, with Severa standing by her side, holding onto her hand comfortingly.

As the crowd finally began to disperse, Robin looked at the grave one last time and offered Priam a final farewell, knowing that in all likelihood, he would never return to this place. Then, still holding onto Cordelia's hand, the two of them turned to leave, too.

Just as they had reached the edge of the clearing, Morgan rushed to their side, with her older sister following close behind. "Are you sure Ragnell will be safe?" Morgan asked her father pleadingly.

"Unless someone casts the appropriate counter spell, the sword cannot be separated from the headstone," Robin assured. "Only one copy exists, as far as I know, and I'll ask Miriel to destroy it as soon as we return to Ylisse."

Morgan knew that was the best that she could hope for. There were very few absolutes in the realm of magic, and one day, perhaps, someone else could find a way to dispel Miriel's magic. She would just have to be satisfied with the knowledge that they had done the best they could.

The young tactician then glanced down at her own weapon belt, where two weapon sheaths rested. One contained what remained of Eternity, the duplicate of her father's weapon from a future timeline. She hadn't been able to bring herself to leave the ruined weapon behind. Her mother, seeing her distress, promised to try to repair the weapon later, but Morgan wasn't entirely certain when that would be, or even if the weapon could truly be repaired.

Her other sheath held Alondite, sister blade of Ragnell. Though Soren had remained silent on the subject, Kurth had recognized the weapon immediately upon their return, and relayed the sword's bloody history to her. At first, the sword had filled her with a sense of irrational disgust, and she had offered the weapon to Kurth, hoping that the dragon king could have it sent to Begnion, or perhaps Goldoa, for safekeeping.

Kurth declined, and explained that the weapon had been buried along with General Zelgius, as a final token of respect, in an unmarked grave outside the Tower of Guidance. History and power aside, Alondite was still only a weapon, with no sentient will of its own, and it had already fallen into the wrong hands once. "Better that Alondite be given to a new wielder who will protect it and use it for a worthy cause," Kurth had explained, as he bade Morgan to keep the sacred weapon.

Morgan glanced back at the clearing and at Ragnell once more, but did a double take as she noticed that Soren was still standing alone, beside the grave. "I'll catch up to you later," she said to her family, making her decision quickly. Severa looked worried, but Robin and Cordelia only nodded encouragingly, needing no further explanation.

* * *

Soren continued staring at the grave in silence, even as the rest of the gathering began dispersing. To the others, it must have seemed perfectly natural: the man who best knew the deceased, remaining behind, needing a moment to himself.

In truth, his thoughts were already drifting elsewhere. Soren had always known that, in all likelihood, he would outlive Priam. Even if Priam had lived long enough to find his life partner and have children of his own, his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would likely become nothing but dust, even as Soren lived on. Soren had long since come to terms with that aspect of his own state of seeming immortality.

Worse still, Soren had already foreseen this particular end for Priam. Not necessarily a death at the end of Alondite, but a noble death fighting for an adopted cause. It was a likely end for one who tirelessly championed justice and strived for perfection.

"Is he with you now, Nestor?" Soren whispered. "Despite the differences between you two, you were kindred spirits, it seems, in life and in death."

"Is Nestor a friend of yours?" Morgan asked quietly.

Though Soren hadn't noticed her returning, he didn't flinch. "You could say that," Soren answered softly. "Nestor was Ike's great-great-grandson. Centuries ago, the two of us spent many years on the road together."

Morgan flinched, silently wondering how many other ghosts were about, haunting Soren's mind. "What about Eirene?" she asked uneasily, as she remembered Soren's earlier ramblings. "Was she also a friend?"

Soren didn't answer.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Morgan said, "I'm sorry, Soren."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Soren assured quietly. "Priam chose this path for himself. You cannot blame yourself for this."

"I brought him here," Morgan reminded, as her eyes grew misty. "I brought both of you here, far away from your home and into danger."

Soren shook his head. "Stop it. You're clever enough to know better, Morgan. You didn't ask us to come with you."

"I know," Morgan conceded, though her tears flowed freely now. "But still... if I never came to you two for help… or if only I had set off from Ylisse alone…"

"You cannot blame yourself for this," Soren said again firmly, his voice remaining flat.

Morgan sighed, and stared at the headstone helplessly. Almost a full minute spoke before she spoke again. "What will you do now?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don't know," Soren admitted quietly. "What about you? Are you headed home with your family and friends?"

Morgan shook her head. "I… I want to finish what we began here," Morgan said. "I just don't feel like I can walk away from this. Especially after…" She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, but Soren knew exactly what she meant, even without seeing her subtle glance toward the headstone lying in front of them.

"I've walked this road before, Morgan," Soren said with a deep sigh. "The path of vengeance is treacherous, and the end of the road, more bitter than sweet."

"I'm not looking for revenge," Morgan said quickly. "Besides, the phantom that slew Priam is already gone, as is Tantalus." They had found the old spirit charmer's torn and bloody corpse a short distance further down the tunnel. It seemed Tantalus's plan had failed dismally, after all. "Priam gave his life to protect the innocent, and that fight is far from over," Morgan continued.

Again, Morgan glanced down at the headstone. In the end, that was the reason they had chosen to bury Priam here in Silent Grove. The fate of the village was a testament to the course Priam had chosen for himself.

"That fight will never be over," Soren said cynically. "There will always be innocents who suffer unjustly, and miscreants who prosper. It's the way of the world."

"You're right," Morgan agreed. "Maybe this war isn't one that can truly be won, but there's still two of these dire eidolons on the loose, and the Redeemers, too, are far from finished. I think I'll stay and help, as long as Tellius welcomes me."

Soren shrugged wordlessly, unwilling to agree or disagree.

"But don't worry," Morgan continued, almost as an afterthought.

"Worry? About what?" Soren asked, genuinely confused.

"Dad says we'll be able to use the same portal to return to Ylisse when we're finished, but you don't have to wait for us," Morgan explained. "I'll ask him to send you home whenever you're ready. You can leave as soon as we reach Begnion, if you want."

"Azure Pyre isn't really my home," Soren said, shaking his head.

Morgan winced and looked at him sympathetically. "I guess you're right. Home is more than just a physical place, isn't it? Being with those you care about… that's home."

Soren nodded. "That's what Ike told me, too, hundreds of years back. I didn't believe him at first, but eventually, I learned better. It sounds like a line out of a poem or book, but it's true."

"Where do you want to go, then?" Morgan asked. "Is there any place you want to be?"

"Not particularly."

"Then what will you do?"

Soren mulled over Morgan's last question carefully, for it was the same question that had kept him here by Priam's grave. He almost regretted speaking of, and even thinking of Nestor now.

The life stolen from him by the winds of time would never truly be replaced. For so long, he had remained beside the descendants of his long-lost friend, hoping beyond reason that one day, he'd find the spark of life that he had lost.

The trail ended here, with Priam's death. He could no longer hide from the truth.

There were many roads open to him still. Kurth had offered him a home in Goldoa, alongside his Laguz family, most of who would outlive him by centuries. He could return to Azure Pyre, or perhaps venture to Ylisstol, Ferox, or Plegia. He could cross the western sea and make his way to Valm, or stay here in Tellius, finding a new home in one of the other Beorc kingdoms.

But what could he hope to find in any of those places?

"You have nowhere to go, do you?" Morgan asked empathetically.

"I don't," Soren admitted. "To be honest, I've been lost for some time now."

"I think I understand," Morgan said thoughtfully.

To his surprise, Soren found that believed her. Despite her airheaded demeanor, the girl could be quite perceptive when she wasn't fooling around. Her next words surprised him even more.

"Why don't you stay with us, then?" Morgan invited.

"Why?" Soren blurted, startled.

"Just for now, I mean," Morgan clarified. "Until you've decided what you want to do next."

Soren shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Why would you want me to stay?"

It was Morgan's turn to look bewildered. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we? Sort of, anyways," she said.

The thought that Morgan would consider him a friend had never even crossed his mind. Soren could only stare at her blankly, at a complete loss for words. Silently, he wondered why that was so often the case with their conversations.

"Okay, maybe not," Morgan said sheepishly, misinterpreting his stunned silence and look of incredulity.

Soren shook his head quickly. "I'll stay, as long as you and your friends would have me," he agreed, and Morgan's face brightened immediately.

"I think I'm going to head back to camp," Morgan said, with one final glance at Ragnell. "Don't stay out here too long, alright?"

Soren nodded briefly, and Morgan set off without another word, leaving the branded mage alone with his thoughts once more.

* * *

The Begnion Holy Guard, and most of the others, set off in the direction of the campsite immediately following the funeral. Symphony, Iris, and Harmony set off in the opposite direction instead, heading to the small graveyard beside the now-abandoned church where they had buried the villagers of Silent Grove the day before.

As far from the rest of society as they were, the simple grave markers, similar to the one erected in the clearing for Priam, were all that could be managed. That was enough, the three friends knew. The people of Silent Grove had led simple, ordinary lives, and the unembellished memorials captured that sentiment perfectly.

But as Symphony looked upon the plain headstones, he couldn't help but see once more the bruised, battered, and burnt corpses lying peacefully beneath the cold soil.

With Priam respectfully interred nearby, and Ragnell serving as a permanent monument to the heroic young man, it seemed quite likely that one day, Silent Grove would live again. The village may even become larger and more prosperous than the one that had been destroyed. The new residents would see these graves here, and know that the people of this town, too, were part of the brief legend. They would know of the terrible fate that had befallen these kindhearted people.

"But none will ever know their stories quite as well as we do," Symphony mumbled quietly.

Iris, who was already contemplating similar thoughts, nodded in agreement. "Remember the time Lily grew jealous of your fields?" Iris said suddenly, smiling at the pleasant memory.

Symphony couldn't help but smile, too, as he recalled the time when Lily had gradually grown more and more disheveled over the course of a week. Her worried friends had finally insisted on visiting her in her home, despite her protests, only to find it packed to the brim with flower pots. "I suppose it'll remain one of life's great mysteries, won't it? No one will ever know why she thought it was necessary to grow all those flowers inside her house instead of in the garden."

"Why did you cover a third of your field in flowers in the first place?" Harmony asked, familiar with the story. "I thought you were supposed to be growing crops."

"I was, but the village only needed so much produce," Symphony said with a shrug. "We couldn't really ship off the excess, either. _You_ certainly didn't seem interested in buying any."

"So that's why you came to me with over two hundred pounds of tomatoes that one day," Harmony said, chuckling softly. "What did you end up doing with all of them, anyways?"

"We dried a lot of them, so that they'd last through the winter," Symphony recalled. "And I think old Jake tried to make wine out of what we had leftover."

"He did," Iris confirmed. "Mother said it was terrible and made him throw it all out."

"Marjorie could be quite a terror when she was angry," Symphony agreed.

For half an hour, the three of them continued to share their pleasant memories of Silent Grove. It was only proper, given that it was the only true home any of the three could remember. Even Harmony, who had a few loose recollections of her birth village, remembered little more than the terrible events that had taken it from her and her brother.

Each of them had come to the village for their own reasons, and the quiet, unassuming place had given them more than they ever could have expected.

And each of the three knew that the village would never truly be their home again, and that this visit could very well be their last.

"We should probably head back to the camp," Harmony suggested quietly, when they had nothing more to say.

"Alright," Symphony agreed. He leapt up from where he had been sitting on the soft grass, leaning against the wooden fence, and absentmindedly brushed away the green stains from his clothing. Iris, who had perched herself atop a small tree nearby, hopped down agilely with her wings spread, landing lightly.

The three of them turned to leave, but Symphony stopped abruptly. Iris and Harmony turned to him curiously. "There's something I wanted to show you," Symphony explained. He removed his gloves and pulled back his sleeve before holding up his bared wrist for them to see.

"Your brand is gone," Iris noticed immediately, speaking in a hushed, nervous tone.

"I don't think I'm a spirit charmer anymore," Symphony said quietly. "Relic used the Dominion Scepter against me. It must have banished the spirits that I shared a pact with. When they returned, the pact was already gone, and they manifested as eidolons instead."

Harmony frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder if Daedalus and his people knew the scepter could be used this way. They probably didn't have much time to experiment with it before they used it against Calamity."

"I thought about seeking out the spirits again," Symphony admitted. Harmony and Iris's eyes widened in alarm. "I don't think there's anything stopping me from becoming a spirit charmer again."

"Don't do it," Iris pleaded immediately, for Daedalus' fate still unnerved her.

Harmony quickly nodded in agreement. "You don't need the spirits anymore, Symphony."

Symphony smiled and nodded. "That's what I thought, too. I don't know how to use tomes, and as long as I can remember, I've always preferred destroying eidolons to controlling them. I don't really need to be a spirit charmer, do I?"

Harmony sighed in relief. "Come on. Let's head back to the camp." She and Iris turned to leave once more, but again, Symphony hesitated.

"Actually… could I have a minute alone?" he asked, when his two companions shot him questioning looks.

"Of course," Iris and Harmony said together.

"Thanks. I'll be right behind you," Symphony promised. He turned back to the line of headstones, and his eyes inevitably sought out one marker specifically, bearing the name of the friend who had first offered him a home here in Silent Grove.

Once Symphony's keen hearing could no longer pick up the soft footsteps of his two companions, Symphony reached into his pocket and brought forth the moonstone ring that Iris had found and returned to him. "Are you listening, Lily?" he asked quietly.

Symphony chuckled helplessly. Whether or not Lily was listening, he knew no answer would be forthcoming. Such was the nature of death, after all. "You know, I still can't believe I let you talk me into this. It sounded so easy at the time, the way you put it," Symphony began.

He grinned as Lily's words echoed through his mind. Like all the others living here in Silent Grove, she had been a simple person, living a simple life. And she had been all the happier for it. If only such a road was open to him now.

"Did you know, that after all my caution for the prior month, I ended up leaving the ring out in plain sight? I figured there was no harm leaving it on my dining table for a single afternoon. Of course, that's the day the world comes crashing down around me. I thought the ring was lost for good, and frankly, it was the last thing on my mind at that point," Symphony said. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that Iris found the ring before fleeing, and even brought it back to me. She thought it was meant for you."

Symphony laughed, and he could almost hear Lily laughing, too. But the mirth died away as quickly as it came. "But I know better now," Symphony said quietly. "There were already complications before. You convinced me to ignore them, and maybe you were right, at the time… but so many things have changed. Heck, I even know my real name now. It's Symphony, by the way, though when we meet again, you're free to call me whatever you want."

Symphony looked down at the ring fondly, at the flower-patterned setting beneath the moonstone. Irises. Somehow, that detail had escaped Iris. He would have liked to tease her about missing such an obvious cue, but in the end, the ring was only the pinnacle of self-deception. It was a symbol of the simple and better life that Symphony had dreamed of.

A life that could never be.

He could imagine Lily's protests, and this time, Noelle's voice joined Lily's. But Symphony only shook his head. "She's Laguz," Symphony said. "One day, like it or not, I'll have to leave her behind. As it stands, I can only hope that she will find new friends and a new home, so that when the time comes, she won't be left alone again. Even the thought of it pains me… but I don't think I have any choice in the matter, do I? Death will find me one day, even if I could simply walk away from the chaos that's found us. And I have no intention of hiding from the darkness this time. We've both seen where that road ends."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. As he did, he could picture Lily standing before him, and surrounding her, the rest of the village. Even imagining their comforting smiles did little to relieve him of the guilt he still felt.

I'll try to come back and visit, when this is all over," Symphony finally said. "I don't think Silent Grove could ever be my home again, but I'm done hiding from my fears. I promise."

* * *

Far off the western shores of Crimea, the ocean's calm surface parted as a long, massive, glossy black fin pushed its way to the surface. The rest of the creature followed close behind, and towering waves rippled outward, as for the first time in months, Maelstrom breached the ocean surface and breathed in the salty air of the world above.

The simpleminded cetacean creature had already forgotten the details of its last defeat. Unlike the other two dire eidolons known to Tellius, Maelstrom was unreasoning and unthinking, and sought only to destroy. But ever since it had been repelled from the shores of East Ferox, its winding, random path through the ocean had been disappointingly empty.

Though dimwitted, its senses and instincts were excellent. From the patterns of the ocean floor, Maelstrom knew that he had found land once more. Hundreds of miles away, perhaps, but land nonetheless.

They would see him coming. They would watch his fin cut through the surf, and for one, brief, moment, they would recognize their impending doom. And then their lives would swept away, spiraling into oblivion.

* * *

On the outskirts of the Sienne, the capital city of mighty Begnion, a score of soldiers belonging to the Begnion Central Army milled back and forth through their small encampment, maintaining their vigil as the night slowly descended upon Tellius.

Every so often, some of the soldiers would glance at the strange contraption that they had been ordered to protect, a large platform crafted from evenly cut wooden planks, which bore a large stone ring, two feet thick with an opening four feet in diameter. The entire circumference of the ring was inscribed with various arcane sigils. While none of the soldiers present, be it the sentries that were patrolling the camp or their resting companions, understood the strange runes, the meaning seemed clear enough, and consistent with their young general's orders: Don't. Touch. _Anything_.

The entire project had taken them by a storm. One of Goldoa's mighty dragon Laguz had appeared out of thin air, begging an audience with Emperor Yashiro. Within mere hours, supplies and construction materials were being ferried out of the city, under the careful watch of Begnion's military might. A handful of alchemists and architects were present as well, cooperating with the Goldoan visitor. A few of the soldiers claimed that they saw the Laguz conversing with what appeared to be a mirror, but the older and wiser soldiers quickly decided that to be just a rumor.

When their project had been deemed complete, each of the four score soldiers stationed at the encampment was present, wanting to bear witness to the fruit of their labors. None of them were really certain what they saw that day. The ring made of stone had expanded outwards, seemingly under its own power. A magical rift of some sort had appeared, and through it arrived a group of oddly-dressed foreigners.

The story had run rampant, and had grown only stranger with each retelling, as the confused soldiers did their best to make some sense of the bizarre happenings. Some swore that the visitors had come from another world altogether. Others insisted that their guests were from the lesser-known lands of Hatari. The most cynical of their number claimed it to be a trick, a conspiracy planned by the Begnion Senators to further their prestige.

Then, the visitors, both the Goldoan and those who had come through the portal, disappeared almost as quickly as they had appeared, taking nearly a third of the Begnion Holy Guard with them, supposedly to assist the missing King Goldoa himself. With their departure, the portal remained under the protection of Begnion's Central Army, and the exciting events came to an abrupt pause.

But even though no answers were forthcoming, many of the soldiers remained curious about the portal they were supposed to be protecting.

"Hey, Jackson. Did that Nasir fellow mention what the strange rock was for?" one soldier asked his companion, gazing speculatively at a black, diamond-shaped piece of rock that was lying on a nearby workbench. It was nearly three inches thick, and looked rather heavy, and its surface was decorated with strange, swirling inscriptions. "Don't you think it would fit perfectly in that notch?" he added, gesturing towards a diamond shaped indentation at the base of the portal.

His friend sighed. "Come on, Mason. That strange wizard fellow was pretty explicit, and General Felicia's orders were quite clear."

"Right. 'Don't. Touch. _Anything_.' Very informative," Mason said, rolling his eyes. "You think any of this is for real?"

"Did any the visitors look like they came from around here?" Jackson retorted wryly. "If this is a show, it's a damn fine one. And if it isn't, I don't want to be the one to find out what happens when someone does exactly what we were ordered not to do."

"Killjoy," Mason muttered. "Blast it. This is way too quiet for my liking."

"Quiet is good," Jackson said, shrugging. "It means we're doing our jobs."

"It's also boring," Mason said, stretching and yawning.

A shadow passed over the encampment, and Mason paused mid-yawn, his jaw widening further as he recognized the silhouette passing overhead.

Dragon.

For a brief moment, he dared to hope that Nasir had returned to bring an end to the rather boring assignment, and perhaps offer some long-awaited answers.

And then sheets of magically conjured ice pelted the camp, as a vicious sleet storm appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Panicked cries of shock and terror rang out as the brutal storm showered the encampment with deadly icicles, tearing through the canvas tents and slaying several soldiers in their sleep. Even those wearing armor were not left unscathed – some of the sentries fled for cover, even as their companions crumbled to the ground, impaled by the jagged shards of ice.

A torrent of raging fire followed, spewed from the draconic monster's skeletal maw and surging downward, cutting a wide swath of destruction. Agonized screams filled the air as the immolating wave of hungering flames found dozens of victims, leaving only smoldering husks in its wake.

Those fortunate enough to survive the deadly assault wanted nothing more to do with the disaster that had befallen them. They fled, one and all, some rushing towards the city, while others ran away blindly, trying to put as much distance between them and the mighty dragon as possible.

Calamity regarded them for a moment, amused, before turning his attention to the portal.

His carefully orchestrated escape from Dragonflame Isle had not gone exactly according to plan. The Dominion Scepter was lost to him, and knowledge of his return would spread quickly. Though Tellius seemed to be in disarray, the mighty eidolon was not about to take any chances. He had made the mistake of underestimating his enemies twice, now, and paid the price each time.

Twice was two times too many, to his thinking.

So he had wandered about, wondering when, where, and how to strike, until he had spotted this camp from afar. Something about it intrigued him, and when he created and sent forth another emanation in order to take a closer look, he didn't regret his curiosity in the slightest.

"A gateway to another world," Calamity mused aloud, in his rumbling, powerful voice. He inspected the strange portal curiously, and let out a grating chuckle.

Gingerly, the dire eidolon lifted the keystone in his claws and set it into the pedestal. There was a flash as the reddish powder lying at the base of the ring-shaped gateway burst into flames. The keystone was consumed almost instantaneously, and with a loud, cracking noise, the ring split apart. The pieces of the portal spread outward, and a swirling, almost liquid-like substance stretched between the fragments, forming a mysterious veil.

Calamity let out another throaty, cruel chuckle, before stepping through the portal, ready to rain death and destruction upon whatever world awaited him on the other side.

A world far away from the wretched Scepter of Dominion.

A world that would soon meet with disaster.

A world doomed to embrace Calamity.

* * *

Deep in the tunnels beneath the Flameheart Mountains, a mighty force that had laid dormant for over two centuries came awake once more.

A new power had found him, and flowed through him, coursing through his mighty, taut muscles, and rippling across his thick, hardened pelt. The painful sensation only lasted a brief moment, and when it stopped, he knew the transformation was complete. Something was different, though he knew not how nor why.

Nor did he truly care. What mattered was that he was stronger, now. Strong enough, perhaps, to break the earthen seal that had contained him for so long. With a growl, he shifted, his gargantuan form moving for the first time in over a hundred years, and thrust his head forward, slamming his mighty horns into the tightly packed rubble.

Some of the stone fell free, but when the barrier remained, the mighty behemoth continued battering the stone before him. The barrier was nearly fifty feet thick, but that did little to deter him as he hammered his horns into it, again and again, dislodging it piece by piece.

The mountain shuddered in protest under the weight of his every blow, but he did not relent. With his newfound strength, even the very foundation of the world was at his mercy. Tremors spread outward, shaking the lands around the mountain and beyond, as slowly, the beast forced its way through the rubble.

Freedom, at long last.

The tunnels were as long now as they had been when he had chased the wretched crow into the darkness, but he found his way, easily enough, and soon, he found himself standing under the silvery light of the moon and stars once more. Only then did he pause to inspect his own form, to see the change that had come over him.

His once golden fur had lost its luster, and now shone ashen white, glimmering slightly under the light of the moon. His thick, dark hide beneath his fur had darkened and turned rigid, and now looked to be a glossy black color, shining out from beneath his fine, white pelt. His talons had likewise grown harder and glossier, and he could see a fraction of his own fearsome visage reflected in them, which had also been transformed into the same material.

Satisfied, the beast howled triumphantly, a warning cry that shook the air for miles in every direction, a harbinger of the apocalypse that was to follow.

The threat of Extinction.


End file.
